Mischief, Mayhem and Miscellany
by Ashita polar
Summary: A collection of orphan scenes, Texts From Last Night posts, SHIELD Recruit Survival Tips and Bland Marvel Headcanon entries. Not connected unless otherwise stated. Various pairings; however most will be Steve/Tony or one of my OT3's - Pepper/Steve/Tony or Bucky/Steve/Tony.
1. Fanfiction is Ficticious Mostly

AN: Steve/Tony pairing.

**SHIELD Recruitment Survival Tip #517 **\- _Keep in mind that fanfiction is just that: fiction. Intimating that any of the relationships...are real, without the principles actually telling you so, is dangerous to your well-being. Especially if known SHIELD enemies are involved._

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**Fanfiction is Fictitious. Mostly.**

When Steve first heard the whispering, he ignored it. It wasn't as if he were in the middle of a presentation, and the new recruits weren't working on stealth moves, so a few words between them as they went through the training op wasn't a big deal. It annoyed him that they weren't focused, but, again, not a big deal.

Besides, he had gotten used to them talking about him, so it rarely fazed him when he heard his name bandied about in their conversations with one another. It was the price he paid for being a public figure. He didn't like it - especially when people he barely knew speculated on his private life - but he dealt with it with deaf ears and bland smiles, learning that you couldn't stop them if you wanted.

And, usually, that mentality curbed his curiosity and cooled most of his ire.

Until today.

Today, for some reason, when he heard his name mentioned by one of the trainees, his hackles rose. Maybe there was just something in the tone of this voice or even the expression on the perpetrator's face when he finally pinpointed them, but whatever it was, it had him seeing red once they were within earshot.

"And then, after he and Tony fucked, Loki used his scepter to take over Tony's body, which he then used to seduce Steve..." a light feminine voice said.

Snapping instantly to attention, as he typically did when someone mentioned his boyfriend of six months, Steve frowned and concentrated so he could figure out what the masses were saying about Tony this time. Dating a former playboy, Steve had gotten used to the fact that Tony's sex life was often fodder for wild speculation. It came with the territory. And while it annoyed him to no end, he'd made peace with it; he had to or go mad, or worse, spend all his time yelling at idiots.

So rumors were to be expected; but this tale was wilder than usual.

Frown deepening, Steve slowly lifted his head and scanned the room, trying to pinpoint the culprits, and honed in on three recruits jogging around the track when he heard some one cut the voice off.

"I don't think the scepter works like that," a slim, petite brunette said, her tone dry as she stared balefully at an equally slender and petite blonde.

Steve tried to place them, but they were still too far away to get a clear visual.

"Oh, please," their male companion snorted knowingly. "If you were expecting reality in an RPS, there is something seriously wrong. They call it fanfiction for a reason, darling. After all, look at the main pairing."

"Are you going to let me continue," the blonde said, huffing when the brunette just rolled her eyes and waved her hand in the universal signal of continue.

"Right, so Loki infiltrated Tony's body to seduce Steve..." the male said, licking his lips as his eyes seem to glaze at the thought. Steve snorted internally.

_Don't even think of it, pal; he's mine._

"Yes, and while Loki was in charge of it, he discovered that Tony has secretly been in love with Steve for months, but hasn't said anything because he didn't want ruin their friendship. So, then, Loki used that to force Tony into seducing Steve and..."

Steve cast the speaker an irritated look, disgust roiling in his stomach at even the idea of Loki using Tony that way, and couldn't even begin to understand why someone would read such a story. And he planned to say so himself when the narration was, thankfully, cut off by their male counterpart once more.

"Speak of the devil..." the male smirked, his voice dipping low.

"What?" the blonde huffed, obviously irritated that she'd been interrupted once more.

"Look who just entered," the male said, casting an appreciative glance at something over Steve's shoulder. "I have to say, no one can deny that Stark is hot."

Steve arched a brow at that comment, and then glanced over his shoulder, his frown melting into a small smile when he found a grinning Tony behind him; one who'd obviously overheard that last comment given the preening. Steve just snorted and shook his head disparagingly at the brunet's antics. Not that he disagreed, but Tony's ego certainly did not need any extra stroking.

"And, Christ, have you ever seen the way he looks at the Captain? I swear he was trying to scorch his clothes off with nothing but his eyes the other day," the male continued, shooting a covetous glance their way.

"You know, I do get why these writers are so obsessed with the two of them as a couple; they just smolder around each other," the brunette said, watching him and Tony thoughtfully.

"Seriously, if they're not fucking, I'll eat my favorite..." the male continued, but Steve was done listening. Sending a now amused Tony a quelling look, Steve gave a shrill whistle, and clapped his hands to get the recruits' attention.

Enough was enough.

"You three, front and center," Steve commanded, pointing to the three gossipers before folding his arms across his chest as he stood. The three recruits looked at each other warily, but immediately complied. "The rest of you continue as ordered."

Steve just watched the recruits as they came over, an unimpressed expression on his face as they formed a line in front of him, shifting uneasily. And now that they were there, he was able to put names to faces. The two women, he was a bit surprised by; a blonde named Jenny and a brunette named Ashley, they were sisters, and for the most part, had been two of his more serious students. The male, a blond named Justin, he expected nothing less from as he'd heard from the other agents that he was a bit of a gossip.

Not that it mattered in the least.

"You know, it's cute that you three believe that I can't hear you over there, given that super soldier means optimal everything," Steve said, giving the three what Tony called his 'Captain America Disapproves of this Greatly' frown. "That includes _hearing_ by the way."

Steve's frown deepened when he felt Tony shake next to him, unsuccessfully stifling a laugh at the recruits' expense, but didn't turn away to admonish him. He'd deal with that later.

The three flushed, all obviously mortified at being overheard. The instigator, Jenny, gave a tiny squeak of dismay and then hastily looked away, dropping her gaze to stare down at her toes.

Justin made a small noise in the back of his throat, but otherwise looked unrepentant. Steve had expected that.

Ashley averted her gaze and chewed on her bottom lip, and looked like she was on the verge of attempting an apology, but Steve just held up one hand, cutting it off.

He was damned sick of people thinking they had a right to his private life just because he was a public figure and was in no mood to listen.

"And since you obviously have the time to gossip; I'm obviously not working you hard enough."

All three heads popped up at that, and the recruits visibly cringed as they exchanged horrified looks with one another. He almost felt bad about it, but quickly quelled any sympathy because there was a lesson to be learned here. Yes, they were spies in training, but the other agents would not be nearly so kind or lenient as he if they were to learn that the new recruits were gossiping about such things.

Natasha alone would...well it was better they never find out.

"I'll have to rectify that," Steve continued without a drop of sympathy. "For today, lets start with an added five laps around the track, and then you can end that with an additional fifty each of push-ups, pull-ups and crunches."

All three groaned as he expected, but Steve just arched an inquisitive brow.

"You want to make it ten laps and a hundred of each?"

And it was amusing how quickly they shut up at that threat; all of them swallowing harshly at the thin smile stretched across his lips.

"Didn't think so," Steve said when they all shook their heads silently. "Next time, learn to mind your own business. Dismissed."

Eying each recruit with annoyance as they reluctantly ran off, Steve startled when Tony sat down on the table next to him, and subtly leaned into his arm.

"That was harsh," Tony commented conversationally, his hands in his pockets.

"They shouldn't be gossiping during training ops. Especially about..._that._"

"Well, they're not wrong," Tony smirked. And Steve turned and stared at his lover incredulously, something that seemed to confuse the other man; that is, until he remembered that Tony had only overheard the last part of the exchange, and wouldn't know about the Loki part of the equation.

But Steve was more than happy to illuminate him to his folly.

"So, you've been fucking Loki behind my back?" Steve snorted, wholly amused when Tony's face scrunched at that, his lips twisting as he spluttered in distaste.

"Ew, no! Really? They said that?" Tony asked, the disbelief evident in his gaze.

"They were discussing some story one of them read; an RPS that had you, me and Loki as the main pairing, whatever that means." Steve shrugged.

"RPS means real person slash, which is a fictional story about real life males in a relationship..."

"Yeah, I kind of figured that out given what they were saying," Steve said and he couldn't help grimacing himself at the idea of him, Tony and Loki doing _anything_ together, let alone something that would be tantamount to rape.

"Pairing would refer to the main relationship of the story," Tony continued, still obviously unsettled by the topic. "Really? Loki? I mean, not that he isn't attractive aesthetically speaking, but he tries to destroy Earth on a near monthly basis. You have better taste than that; hell, _I_ have better taste than that."

"I just don't understand people today," Steve lamented, shaking his head clear of the disturbing images the recruits had unwittingly implanted.

"Well, as I was saying earlier, you know before the Loki bit; they aren't wrong," Tony said, shooting him a wicked leer. "Not completely right either, but not wrong. We _are_ hot together. And, you know, if they had mentioned _Bucky_ instead..."

"Please don't give them any _more_ fodder for gossip," Steve interrupted, shooting his smirking boyfriend a quelling look. "I swear it's like I'm in charge of a bunch of high school students as it is some days."

"I'm just saying, your bestie is hot." Tony held up his hands in mock surrender; and then paused to consider before saying. "And I wouldn't kick him out of our bed."

"Noted," Steve acknowledged.

And there was a thought. A very good thought, actually. And Steve barely repressed a shiver at the idea of him and Bucky tag teaming Tony, touching him, kissing him, holding him down and... Shivering in truth this time, Steve swiped a hand over his face and then huffed when Tony shot him an all too knowing glance. The genius thankfully remained silent however.

That scenario...might actually have some merit.

Steve wasn't blind. He'd been all too aware of the heated, longing looks between his best friend and his boyfriend; had seen the way they watched each other when they thought no one was looking. He didn't blame them. Not one bit seeing as he was hardly immune to their charms himself. Not to mention, back in the day, he and Bucky had fooled around on more than one occasion before Steve had met Peggy.

So, it was an intriguing thought.

"Maybe for your birthday."

"What? Really?" Tony spluttered, staring at Steve with wide eyes, his jaw slackening. "You know I was mostly joking, right? I mean, as I said, he's hot and if you ever wanted to, you know, you can totally count me in; but I'm pretty sure that you didn't do that kind of thing back in the day..."

"And what makes you think that?" Steve smirked.

Tony goggled at that, his eyes widening further; and Steve could help a soft chuckle at his dumbfounded expression.

"Honestly, you guys act like you invented sex or something. You do realize I was in the army, right? That I grew up in the Brooklyn slums? I walked past a known den of iniquity nearly every day on my way to school. Hell, Bucky Barnes is my best friend and he's hardly a saint."

"A den of iniquity, that is just so adorable," Tony teased as regained his composure, and then arched a bemused brow. "You are wrecking all of my illusions of you, Rogers."

"Pretty sure I already did that when I pinned you to your work table and fucked the snark out of you six months back."

"Point," Tony agreed, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, eyes glazing over at something only he could see; likely a mental re-enactment of said illusion-wrecking sex. "And that was truly a mind-shattering experience. Never expected _that_ to happen, even in my wildest dreams."

"I got tired of waiting for you to catch a clue," Steve smirked, laughing internally at Tony's mock put upon frown, but the genius didn't protest.

Mostly because he couldn't. Tony had been unbelievably dense in regards to Steve's interest, and it had finally taken Steve kissing the life out of him during one of their arguments before Tony caught on. But once he had, well, Steve had no complaints.

"So, dinner tonight?" Tony asked, pulling Steve from his thoughts.

"Sounds good to me," Steve said, turning back to watch the recruits stumble through the last of their laps, making notes of weaknesses to address at a later date. "Nothing too fancy I hope. I could really go for a burger."

"Nah, I was in meetings all day; last thing I want to do is to run into those useless assholes in a social setting. I know just the place. Meet you at the Tower at seven?"

"Better make it eight. By the time I'm done here," Steve circled his fingers to encompass the training grounds, "and get cleaned up, it will be closer to that time."

"Sounds great," Tony said, running his thumb over the back of Steve's hand and then stood, casting a wry smile at the recruits. "I'd kiss you, but it would likely send the speculation clamoring to new heights."

"Yeah, please don't," Steve said, his eyes lighting on the, now, chastened gossipers once more. "I can barely tolerate this class as it is."

"Although..." Tony drawled, casting a coy glance through his lashes.

"Tony..." Steve groaned, shooting his devilishly smirking boyfriend a disapproving glance. But based on the glint in his eyes, Steve had a feeling it didn't do any good. Focusing on something he was more likely to influence his way, Steve turned back to the recruits and clapped his hands.

"Let's pick it up people! I don't have all day!"

Several groans reached Steve's ears and he didn't even attempt to hold back the vindictive edge in his smile as he informed them.

"And speaking of all day, guess what you've earned? That's right, a full-day training op starting bright and early at 06:00 tomorrow. I hear Black Widow is bored, and is looking for a new challenge. She might just show up if you're lucky. Or is that unlucky? I can never tell. Be sure to thank your gossiping classmates for that one. Maybe next time, you'll learn to keep your thoughts to yourself."

"You are a sadist," Tony smirked, and then paused to flick his eyes over Steve appreciatively. "Not gonna lie; I find it unbearably hot. I love it when you get all vengeful."

"Tony." Steve infused a note of warning into the name, knowing that nothing good would come from that particular gleam in his lover's eyes, but Tony was completely unfazed.

"Leaving," Tony grinned, waggling his fingers as he turned; and then just a Steve thought he was safe, Tony swung around dropped a quick kiss on his lips, whispering. "Later, lover boy."

Steve rolled his eyes at the small gasps around the room, and then glared halfheartedly at the other man. Tony just smiled unrepentantly. Fine, two could play that game.

Grabbing the back of his neck, Steve pulled Tony into searing kiss, smirking triumphantly when the genius made a sharp, surprised noise in the back of his throat.

"You'll pay for that later, Stark," Steve murmured as he released Tony, his smile growing at the other man's surprise.

Tony hadn't expected him to roll with it; had likely expected him to blush and stammer and try to explain his way out of it. But Steve had given up explaining himself a long time ago. It was no one's business anyway. So, instead, Steve just stared right back in challenge.

Tony, knowing he was beat, straightened, fondness in his gaze as he winked and strutted out the door with a jaunty salute in acknowledgement.

"Looking forward to it, Rogers."

Steve just smiled, and then turned back to his class, an unimpressed stare on his face when he noted that most had stopped their activities in favor of watching him and Tony.

"Would you like to add another day? I hear Hawkeye is coming back from Argentina soon. He's always looking for live bait for target practice."

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**AN:** This is a work in progress collection that will be added to as I get prompts or find something that interests the muse.

The title comes from one of my favorite series names in another fandom. It fit the collection so well that I had to borrow it.


	2. Hero Wrangler

**AN:** Phil/Clint, Steve/Tony if you squint really hard.

**Summary:** Phil wonders when his job became babysitting a bunch of man children.

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Phil Coulson stared at the report blankly, his vision blurring around the edges as he glared at it, but it still refused to disappear no matter how fervently he wished it away. Sighing, he set it down, and rubbed his temples with one hand as he wondered, not for the first time, how this had become his life.

It hadn't started like this.

At one time, he'd had a fairly nondescript, normal job like millions of other people. He got up; he took a shower, made and ate his breakfast, and then went to the office to sit at his desk for eight hours. He put in his hours, got the job done as succinctly as possible and then he went home to get ready to do it all over again.

Well, normal and nondescript if you meant working for the largest, most secret, intelligence organization in the country, but those were just details. As extraordinary as his job sounds on paper, it really had been routine and boring for the most part - analyze some data, offer solutions, catch the bad guys through meticulous planning and persistence and then pop off home for a glass of wine, good food and some smooth, mellow jazz playing in the background.

And then Fury fell prey to a bout of insanity and introduced the Avengers Initiative.

It had all been downhill from there.

Gone were his headache-free, sensible, structured days, in favor of the barely controlled chaos that came with five overgrown children (Natasha excepted) running around blasting, hitting, stabbing, shooting or frying things with their respective toys. Honestly, some days it felt as if he were a playground monitor, not a senior agent.

Which is likely why calls like this didn't even faze him anymore.

"Coulson speaking," Phil said as he calmly picked up the Avengers line. Strictly speaking, it was supposed to be a line used for emergencies only, but few of the Avengers grasped that concept; especially this one.

"Should I get the rainbow boxer briefs?" Clint asked, his voice muffled as if he had his phone pressed between his ear and shoulder.

Phil smiled at his boyfriend's voice before the question caught up with him, and then, when it did, his head spun a bit. Did he hear that correctly? Knowing Clint, he did.

Sighing, Phil pinched the bridge of his nose and wondered again, just how was this his life. He wished he could say something like this was an anomaly in his day, but with Clint and the others, it wasn't.

"As your boyfriend, this is a level of gay that even I can't handle." Phil said dryly, a visual of Clint prancing around in a pair of striped, rainbow boxers making his head throb.

"I could totally work these," Clint disagreed.

Phil knew he could, but… "I'd rather you not."

"Seriously," Clint insisted loudly; and in the background Phil could hear voices and popping sounds, along with shuffling noises that told him that Clint was likely in the middle of the damned store and not in the least bit discreet. "I should get them. It takes being out and proud to new dimensions."

Phil pressed his fingers deeper into his temples, rubbing away the onset of what was sure to be another migraine. He could just see the headlines now - **Hawkeye: Out and Proud; Avenger in a Clandestine Homosexual Relationship with Handler.** And that was the least incendiary headline that crossed his mind. He could only imagine what the trash mags would say. That wouldn't go over well.

It wasn't that they were hiding their relationship, but it wasn't exactly public either. And he preferred to keep it that way because he wasn't keen on being hounded by the vultures they called press every time he stepped out the front door.

Right, time to nip this in the bud.

"Just because you were in the circus, does _not_ mean I want you to wear something gaudier than a circus tent in your pants."

"You're no fun." Clint complained petulantly; and Phil could all but see his pout.

"Not what you said last night."

The stunned silence that followed his statement had Phil smirking. It was rare that he left the archer completely speechless.

"What? What?" Clint squawked when he finally regained his voice. "Is that innuendo I hear?"

Phil just rolled his eyes and remained silent, letting the other man work it out for himself. Honestly, it wasn't as if he were a prude; just discreet unlike some people.

"I am so proud, I could shed a tear."

"Shut up, Barton," Phil muttered, his cheeks heating against his will, and he shuffled some papers around on his desk in order to distract himself.

"Make me, baby," Clint crowed.

Phil rolled his eyes once more, a habit that he seemed to be falling into more and more lately. It just seemed to come with the territory.

"We won't be 'making' anything ever again if you even think of buying those…"

Phil paused then, his voice trailing off as he spotted movement from the corner of his eye. Glancing over, he spied a grinning Darcy leaning against his doorjamb, which never boded well. Holding up one finger, he went back to his conversation with Clint and continued, this time with a bit more discretion knowing that the junior agent was present.

"…if you even think of buying those things."

"Shutting up, sir," Clint said, his tone sobering as hecaught on to the fact that Phil was no longer alone in his office.

"Good boy," Phil said, and then shut down the conversation before Clint could realize that the person present was Darcy and not 'someone important' in Clint's eyes, prompting him to tease Phil mercilessly. "I'll see you tonight."

Pressing end, Phil looked up at SHIELD's newest recruit expectantly, just knowing she was going to ruin his so far peaceful day. As a known Avengers associate, she was never the bearer of good news.

"Trouble in paradise?" Darcy quipped, waggling her eyebrows.

Phil stared at her blandly, allowing a thin veneer of irritation to radiate through his aura, letting the girl know she was on thin ice and, subsequently, wiping the grin from Darcy's face. He might tolerate impertinence from certain agents because they had proved valuable assets despite their general mockery of all things protocol, (read the Avengers), but he wouldn't tolerate it from this one.

Best to get them in line right from the beginning.

Staring at Darcy pointedly, he still didn't know who recommended, and then, had the balls to hire her, (although, he suspected Nick because the man lived to annoy Phil), but when he finally tracked them down, he was going to taze them. Repeatedly. And then he'd force them to watch twenty-four hours of mindless reality TV, starting with Super Nanny and ending with Toddlers and Tiaras.

"Sorry, sir," Darcy said as straightened and presented a more professional mien.

"Was there something you needed, Miss Lewis?" Phil asked leadingly; better to rip the Band-Aid off than draw the pain out.

"There seems to be…," Darcy said haltingly, chewing on her bottom lip as she searched for the right word, "...an incident, sir."

"Of course there is," Phil sighed; he didn't even pretend ignorance at this point. "Which one of them is it this time?"

Because, of course, it was Avenger related; no one bothered him these days unless one of the Avengers was involved. He tried to recall just when it was that he'd agreed to be in charge of their playpen, but can't; and he figures it had something to do with Nick blinding him with a bright, shiny, newly-defrosted Captain America.

That was before he'd learned the hard way that Captain America was Steve Rogers, who, at heart, still saw himself as that thin, scrappy brat whose mouth was as large as his heart, and was the biggest troll on the entire Eastern seaboard. People, in their canonizing of Captain America's stalwart character, often forgot he had roots in the Brooklyn slums, and palled around with the likes of Bucky Barnes and the Howling Commandos back in the day.

(Phil will never be taken in by those so-called innocent baby blues again. The first, and subsequently _last_, time that had happened, it had ended in a level seven disaster crossing three state lines. He once thought Tony Stark was a handful; he didn't realize just how easy he'd had it until he'd introduced Steve Rogers into the mix.)

It would be just like Nick to do that - bury the fine print behind a huge, shiny distraction. Phil bet he was sitting in his office right now, laughing his ass off.

"Well," Darcy hesitated, her brow puckering as she attempted to explain whatever new mayhem his charges had caused. "The caller wasn't really making a whole lot of sense. She was babbling and talking all kinds of crazy. All I got out of her was that it involved Tony and Steve and some sort of ray gun and…uh…a foam of some sort? Oh! And there might have been a mention of the Hulk…"

Phil held up a hand, halting Darcy in her tracks. The vein in his temple throbbed in time with the pounding in his head at those words and he really didn't want to know.

"Just…send me the coordinates and see if Natasha is available. I'm going to need some help wrangling those three."

"Sure thing, boss man," Darcy said, firing off a sloppy salute as she walked out of the office; and, again, Phil couldn't help wondering who thought it'd be a brilliant idea to hire her. Seriously, a large tazer with their names on it.

Picking up his phone, he shot off a text to Clint and then walked out the door to see to whatever mess Tony had created this time.

_On second thought, get them. I think I'll need a laugh after I'm through dealing with Steve, Tony and Bruce._

* * *

**Based on these texts from Texts From Last Night:**

Should I get the rainbow boxer briefs?

As your boyfriend, this is a level of gay that even I can't handle.


	3. A Sense of Home

**AN:** Bucky/Steve/Tony pairing; possible OT6 - Bucky/Steve/Tony/Bruce/Natasha/Clint if you squint.

**Bland Headcanon:** _Steve's bed has Jersey fabric sheets and down pillows with plenty of microfiber blankets tossed around. He hates being cold and cramped ever since the ice. He sometimes finds other members of the team sleeping in it because it's just so comfy. He has yet to kick anyone out._

**My Added Headcanon:** _They choose his bed above all others because he makes them feel safe and he has become their home in a way none can explain._

* * *

**A Sense of Home**

The first person Steve finds in his bed is, surprisingly, Bruce; but, given that Bruce had the floor just above Steve's, and they had all just gotten back from a grueling eighteen-hour battle in the middle of Iowa of all places, he didn't think much of it. Steve could easily see how the doctor might have hit a wrong button, and as they all had similar floor plans, just shuffled his way to the bedroom and curled up in Steve's bed without thought.

Steve just stared at Bruce for a long moment, noting the dark bruises under his eyes and the peaceful relaxation that the man rarely showed outside of his lab, and decided not to worry about it. It wasn't like he hadn't shared a bed with comrades-in-arms before and he was just too damned tired to care. Instead, he gave a rueful, but tender, smile and brushed Bruce's hair back from his face, his smile broadening when Bruce made a contented chuff and pressed his head further into Steve's hand.

Pulling away, Steve stretched and gave a weary sigh, and then shucked his uniform, took a shower, threw on his sweats and joined Bruce in bed, biting back a chuckle when Bruce made a soft snuffling noise and then curled into his heat like a sleepy kitten. Steve wrapped his arms around the other man and just reveled in the closeness of another living, breathing human being; something so desperately needed after the horror he'd just witnessed.

_If only the world could see you now, they would never fear the Hulk._

"Lights, JARVIS," Steve murmured, and then pressed his nose into Bruce's hair as the lights dimmed, the faint scent of something earthy following him into sleep.

... ... ...

The second person he found there was a heartbreakingly familiar figure, and one he'd never thought he'd see again. After Bucky fell, and Steve had woken up to this far-too-fast, far-too-flashy future, with almost everyone he'd ever known dead or frail and sickly, he'd never thought he'd ever feel happy again. But seeing this figure in his bed...

Well, he couldn't help feeling torn between absolute delight, an overwhelming gratitude that Bucky was there, and worry, seeing as how that same man somehow broke through all of Tony's carefully laid security measures to get there.

(Steve wouldn't find out until later that Tony had included Bucky on the approved list for Steve's floor when he learned of the Winter Soldier's identity; and Bucky hadn't broken in at all.)

Staring at Bucky, wan and shaking within the mound of blankets and pillows, sent a sharp, bittersweet ache twisting through his chest, but it also brought with it a great deal of wariness. The last time he had seen his friend, Bucky had looked him straight in the eye and called him his mission, with no recognition in that frosted gaze. He had nearly _killed_ Steve because Steve had refused to lift a hand to defend himself against his best friend.

_I'm with you 'til the end of the line, pal._

Steve held out a hesitant hand, a fine tremor running through it as he did so, but paused before he touched Bucky's shoulder. _What if this was nothing more than a dream or hallucination brought on by exhaustion?_ Steve didn't think his heart could stand the idea of waking up to more cold - cold sheets, cold lies, a cold heart.

Curling his fingers into a tight fist, his knuckles blanching under the strain, Steve swallowed and whispered hoarsely, "JARVIS? Is that...is he..."

"Yes, Captain Rogers," JARVIS said, a soft note of compassion in his voice. And Steve will never get over that - an artificial intelligence acting more human than some of the flesh and blood ones he knew. "Based on my preliminary scans, it does appear that the man sleeping in your bed is, indeed, Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes."

"Okay," Steve said, and something midway between relief and suspicion clenched his gut. "How long has he been..."

"Sergeant Barnes has been sleeping for going on twenty hours," JARVIS said. "I put the entire building on lockdown once he entered the lobby and guided him to your floor. Once here, he fell into your bed and went to sleep. He hasn't moved since. Your floor has been on lockdown since he arrived, so that no one could get in and he would not be able to reach any of the more sensitive areas."

Steve didn't reply; he just kept an unblinking gaze on the huddled form before him, his eyes misting with tears even as he crept closer.

"Captain, I would advise you to be careful; it would seem that the sergeant is..."

But JARVIS didn't get a chance to finish as the figure moved suddenly, striking out at an advancing Steve, forcing him to fall back into a defensive stance, his shield raised in front of him. Steve watched the other man warily, uncertain if friend or foe was staring out of those familiar eyes.

Bucky, for his part, curled up against the headboard equally as defensive, a cold intensity glinting in his eyes as he held his metal arm out in front of him.

They stayed like that for several long moments, breathless, until the cold melted from Bucky's eyes, leaving behind uncertainty, confusion, and _recognition_...

"Steve?"

It was just a whisper. A barely audible confession, but it had the power to ignite the flagging hope in Steve's heart, leaving it burning once more.

"Buck," Steve said, his voice cracking around the edges, but he held himself in check despite wanting to crush the other man in his arms and never let go.

"Stevie," Bucky said with a bit more certainty, a faint flicker of a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth.

It broke something in Steve, that weak smirk, leaving behind a wave of emotions that he couldn't name as there were just too many. And then, next thing he knew, he was on the bed, with Bucky in his arms, cradling his friend to his chest as they laid there like they'd done so many times in the past.

And this time he was not letting go.

... ... ...

The third time, Steve almost missed the person in his bed because they were curled up in a tight ball at the edge of the bed, and nearly entirely covered by the blankets. In fact, it was only due to the low light hitting on a strand of red hair just right, that Steve even realized that Natasha was there.

Sighing he rubbed his face, and looked out into the snowy night, and just asked JARVIS to bump the temperature and left the room, seeking out another place to nap so he didn't disturb his guest. It had been a long, hard mission in the Russian tundra, jabbing at several of Natasha's soft spots and she had been unable to sleep very long without nightmares. If sleeping in his bed brought her a sense of comfort and safety that she hadn't gotten while they were away, he certainly wasn't going to stop her.

... ... ...

And then there was a fourth, fifth and sixth time, with Bucky, Clint and then Bucky, Clint and Natasha respectively. In fact, the only ones he hadn't caught in his bed at some point were Thor and Tony; but he knew that Tony had been there at least once because the scent of his cologne lingered on his pillow for several days.

(And Steve really didn't want to think of the effect that'd had on him, nor his disappointment when the scent finally faded.)

It became a habit.

At least once a week, Steve would come home from SHIELD Headquarters or a mission or a run or a trip just because he needed to get away from the clamoring of the city and refocus, and he'd find one of his teammates snuggled in his bed, buried under mounds of pillows and blankets. And never the same person. And he couldn't figure out why. There were plenty of bedrooms in the tower, and all of them had the same overly luxurious bed, because Tony did not scrimp when he put their floors together.

And always his bed for some reason.

But Steve never sent them away.

He knew all too well how difficult it was to face down your demons alone and he wouldn't do that to his friends, to his _family_. Instead, he just nudged them over to one side or the other, usually based on their own sleeping preferences as he could _literally_ sleep anywhere, (the army was good at training people out of preferences as some days, just having a bed was a luxury), and then climbed in with them.

The companionship was nice, and he found that his own nightmares faded when he slept with another person, so who was he to complain?

This had become so commonplace that Steve hardly even batted an eye these days.

Until the first time he went to bed and awoke to someone who hadn't been there when he fallen asleep.

... ... ...

Steve awoke to a warm body pressed along his back; something that didn't really faze him at first as he knew that Bucky had been watching TV in his bed when he finally stumbled in from a battle. Steve had just looked at him and grunted, shucked his uniform and fell into bed, instantly falling into a deep sleep. And that had been the end of it.

So, body in the bed, that wasn't a surprise.

What threw him off, really, was the scent of metal, motor oil, grease and a familiar cologne that often haunted his pillows, but did not match the face he recalled when he fell asleep.

No, this scent belonged to one of his phantom bed mates.

Tony had been elusive in his use of Steve's bed, slipping in and out so slyly, so quietly and quickly, that Steve would have never known he had been there if it weren't for the lingering scent of his cologne on his pillows and sheets. Nor would JARVIS ever confirm anything outside of cryptic remarks, likely ordered into silence by his creator.

Steve wasn't sure why Tony hid his use of Steve's bed; Steve had never complained about people being in his bed, but Tony never said anything and thus Steve also remained silent. Steve knew how prickly Tony could be if someone acknowledged behavior he often saw as a weakness. It was just better to keep his peace rather than inadvertently chase Tony away. The genius never got enough sleep as it was.

Turning on his side carefully, Steve looked down into Tony's face, admiring the play of light and shadow, (created by the arc reactor), over his features. Lifting his hand, Steve traced the sharp edge of Tony's cheekbone, marveling, not for the first time, how gorgeous his friend was, and only pulled away when the man grumbled in his sleep, edging away from light touch. But it didn't halt his appreciative perusal.

Tony was a beautiful man.

That was a thought he would have suppressed at one time given societal mores; in fact, he still had to stop from instinctively shying away even now. He's thankful that society has developed enough to, if not embrace homosexuality completely, to have become more tolerant of same sex unions; but going against a lifetime of conditioning was not easy.

That didn't stop him from admiring his friend.

Long black lashes laid against flushed cheeks, hiding whiskey-colored eyes that brimmed with so much intelligence and passion, so much intensity, so much _life_, that it often left Steve breathless. And maybe long to have them riveted on him just a little. Or maybe a lot, but who would blame him? He wouldn't be the first to fall for Tony's charm.

Smiling ruefully, Steve ran his fingers through dark brown, nearly black hair, laughing internally when they only ended up helplessly snarled in the tangled mess. Obviously someone hadn't bothered to comb it out after the battle. And to top it all, Tony's features were relaxed in sleep, making him look far younger than he was; all except for his mouth, which was scrunched up into a little pout.

He couldn't help finding that adorable.

Shaking his head at his own thoughts, Steve raised his eyes to check the time and startled to find a pair of knowing blue eyes watching _him_. He hadn't even realized that Bucky was also in bed with him, let alone awake enough to notice his fascinated study of Tony. Swallowing thickly, he jutted his chin a bit defiantly, almost daring Bucky to comment, but the other man just smirked in reply.

And really, that was all that was needed to send a flood of heat into Steve's cheeks. Bucky just knew him too damned well to be fooled by any denial he could have made.

So, Steve didn't bother.

"When did he...?" Steve asked, nodding to Tony, who was curled up between them.

"Found him when I got up to get some warm milk." Bucky shrugged when Steve gave him a questioning look. "Nightmares."

Steve frowned at that, wondering why Bucky didn't just wake him, but Bucky was ignoring his pointed stare. Again, Bucky knew him too well to be intimidated by it unlike the rest of the team; he just flicked off Steve's concern, not quelled in the least by his disapproval.

"He was wandering around, barely coherent, so I dragged him back here. "

"Why...?" Steve began, and then trailed off as he didn't know how to phrase the question without giving everything away.

"Seen the way you look at him, Stevie," Bucky said, that knowing look back in his eyes, making Steve's face grow hotter. "No hiding that. Plus, I knew if I had put him in his room, he'd just get right back up when I left. This way, I knew he'd sleep."

"And he let you?"

Steve couldn't help feeling slightly incredulous. It was a never-ending nightmare trying to get Tony to take better care of himself, and almost always ended in harsh words from Tony, who adamantly denied needing a babysitter. It also ended with Steve getting irritated enough to call rank, use his override codes to shut things down much to JARVIS' amusement and approval, and then bodily carry Tony to bed. Tony's ire at being manhandled that way would have been daunting if it weren't a halfhearted thing at best; not to mention that Tony typically passed out almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

"Do you honestly think he could have resisted?" Bucky smirked, looking at the sleeping man between them with a fondness he usually saved for Steve. "Man's not dumb. He knew a losing prospect when he saw it. Gave in, if not graciously, with little fight at least."

"Did..." Steve began, but was cut off by a grumble by the man in question.

"Talking. Why are you still talking," Tony whined, his voice garbled as he burrowed further into Steve's body, making Steve's breath audibly hitch. And Steve was pretty sure he felt a smirk curl on Tony's lips at the little noise; the little shit had probably been awake the whole time. "Less talking, more sleeping."

Bucky just grinned at Steve's expression, his eyes sparkling with mirth, and Steve could only imagine what it looked like given the pained delight he was currently feeling at having Tony pressed against him. Bucky slid in behind Tony, draping an arm around his waist, so that his hand rested on Steve's hip, sending a shiver of want tripping down Steve's spine.

"You heard the man; less talking, more sleeping, Steve," Bucky said; his tone was innocent, but the look in his eyes anything but; and Steve couldn't help another tremor at being on the other end of it.

And Steve couldn't do anything but draw a shaky breath as his companions slid back into sleep, and wonder just how this was his life.

... ... ...

Steve entered his room after a week-long, solo mission that had him hunting down a HYDRA agent for six days, only for said agent to escape into a country that was not on good terms with SHIELD or the Avengers, forcing Steve to halt his pursuit while they regrouped. It was disheartening, as he had been so close to apprehending the agent several times, only to lose him due to both enemy, and friendly, interference.

It made him want to scream at times, and all he wanted right now, was a long, hot shower, and to curl up in his bed for at least twelve hours before facing the rest of the team, who he knew would be furious at his insistence of taking this mission alone. And he definitely wasn't looking forward to each of his lovers' and friends' scolding for taking off without a word to them.

Each in their own distinctive way.

Natasha would pummel him into the ground under the guise of sparring. And then she'd bandage him up and kiss away the hurt before storming off to brood for a day or two.

Clint would take his frustration out by ambushing Steve, sneaking up and pinning him to the nearest surface as he berated him for being an idiot.

Bruce would just follow him with that wounded gaze he got, tracking it over Steve's body in order to reassure himself that everything was still intact. And then he'd smile sadly and quietly tell Steve that he was happy that Steve made it out all right. And, truly, that killed Steve more than any potential scolding ever could.

Bucky would do as he'd always done; scold him up one way and down the next before throwing up his hands in exasperation; and then getting over it, because he knew that Steve was going to be Steve no matter what, and nothing would ever change that.

Tony...Tony was the hardest to predict.

Sometimes he flew into a rage, berating Steve for leaving him behind, all of it to mask the fear that Steve didn't need him anymore. At other times, it was the silent treatment, because Tony didn't, _couldn't_, trust himself not to say something hurtful and damaging to their relationship. And at still others, Steve was greeted with soft, desperate kisses because Tony feared that he'd never see Steve again.

He couldn't predict Tony, and he didn't want to. Their relationship was the better for that.

But he stood by his decision.

He had to.

HYDRA was his mess to deal with, and there was no way he was letting any of his loved ones near those bastards. He couldn't deal with losing one of them to HYDRA again; not after everything was going right in his life for once.

Which is why, of course, he found them all in his bed upon arrival.

He didn't even bother to question how they knew he was going to be home tonight; he saw the look in Phil's eyes when Steve came onto the Helicarrier, and knew that he had been the one to call ahead and inform the others that Steve had come back from his mission.

Steve came into his room, and silently began to peel off his uniform, all too aware of the five gazes boring into him, but they remained blissfully silent otherwise. He was just too tired to fight with them tonight. Pulling out his sweats and a towel, he headed for the bathroom, intent on at least taking that shower before facing them.

Steve quickly saw to his ablutions, although he did linger in the shower a few minutes longer than he typically would because the hot water felt wonderful on bruised, aching muscles, and he needed those moments to get his head together. Stepping out of the shower, he dried off and dressed, brushed his teeth and ran his fingers through his hair to loosen the tangles and then faced the door.

No sense in putting it off further; they weren't likely to leave until they had their say.

Opening the door, Steve stepped out and faced the firing squad, which was exactly where he had left it twenty minutes prior. Natasha was on the edge closest to the door; they had all learned the hard way to never to get between her and the only escape route. It wasn't wise and often lead to pain.

Clint was next to her, his mouth pressed into a thin line, and Bruce next to him, worried eyes taking in the way Steve listed to the right.

Tony was next to Bruce, his eyes riveted on the screen of the Starkpad in his hands, likely hacking SHIELD even now to get the details of Steve's mission because Tony knew damned well that Steve never told them everything, and Tony hated that. He did not like being out of control, and missing details that could potentially bite them in the ass later fell into that category. But Steve could see the tension in Tony's shoulders and Steve knew that most of Tony's attention was on Steve and not the glowing screen.

Bucky stood nearby, hair pulled into a bun with his arms crossed over his chest, dressed in his own version of sleep clothes, which was a white, ribbed tank top and a pair of black track pants. He, like the others, looked strained and weary, exasperation painted across his face, and Steve couldn't help jutting his chin defiantly at that look. It was a knee jerk reaction left over from when they were kids; one he had difficulty halting.

Bucky just smirked at his reaction; one that broadened when Natasha cleared her throat pointedly, startling Steve. Turning back to the redhead, Steve swallowed thickly at her displeased look, but stood firm under the accusatory gaze because he did not regret his decision, and he never would. Not when it came to keeping them safe.

"We _will_ be discussing this later," Natasha said, obviously the spokesperson for the group. Her expression was unrelenting as she stared him down, making sure he understood that they were in no way happy with his actions, before it softened just a touch, bringing with it a weariness that shot a sharp jolt of guilt through him. "But for now, come to bed."

Expecting more of a fight, Steve deflated when they all nodded and left it at that. He knew that it was by no means over, but apparently they preferred to deal with him individually as opposed to en masse. That should be fun.

Blinking as his own exhaustion caught up with him, Steve didn't even fight when Bucky grabbed his hand and dragged him to the bed, pushing him in next to Tony, so that he could take the outer edge, at his back as he had always done when they were kids. Steve just sighed, and buried his face in the pillow even as Tony turned off his pad, set it aside and then laid down facing him. From there the others all curled into their preferred sleeping positions - Bruce spooned up against Tony, Clint's back pressed to Bruce's, facing Natasha, who curled up against him.

It was silent for a long moment, peaceful, each of them just reveling in the presence of each other, before Steve turned a question that had been niggling him for months over in his head.

"Out of curiosity," Steve said, the aforementioned emotion finally getting the best of him. "Why my bed?"

There was a moment of silence before each of them answered.

"It's warm," Natasha said with a shrug.

"It's comfy," Clint added, his voice soft around the edges.

"It's safe," Bruce whispered, and Steve's heart clenched at that answer, but not as much as it did when Tony gave his, leaving him breathless and aching and just so damned overwhelmed when the tired genius said,

"It's home."

Steve swallowed and really couldn't think of anything to say to that. And maybe he didn't need to; they had already said it all themselves. A sentiment that Bucky echoed.

"What they said, punk," Bucky said, draping his arm over Steve's waist, so that his hand could rest on Tony's hip at the same time. And yeah, Steve couldn't disagree.

It was then, just as his grip on consciousness started slipping, that Steve also couldn't help but wonder - _how on Earth had they managed to cram themselves into his bed?_

It was big, yes, but there were still six of them.

Popping his head up groggily, Steve squinted his eyes, trying to force them into focusing and absently noted that there wasn't even a centimeter between Natasha and the edge, and he couldn't imagine it was any better for Bucky. That combined with the fact that they were all nearly laying on top of one another, had him rethinking some things.

"JARVIS," Steve said, flopping his head back down on the pillow.

"Yes, Captain."

"I think, I'm going to need a bigger bed," Steve said, smiling when Tony huffed and Bucky laughed. From his position, he could see a small smile on Bruce's face, and didn't need to see it to know that the smile was echoed on Natasha's.

Clint just snored, oblivious to it all, which sent the rest of them into slightly manic giggles.

"I'll get right on that, Captain," JARVIS said, amusement coloring his tone.

And Steve finally let go of the tension he'd been holding onto since he left. He was here, he was safe, he was _home_, and there was no other place he wanted to be.


	4. Not a Real Avenger

AN: Pre-Bucky/Steve/Tony; could be seen as a tie in to **A Sense of Home**.

**SHIELD Recruit Survival Tip #537** \- _It is never wise to use the phrase 'not a real Avenger' to refer to anyone even remotely connected with the Initiative. The consequences can be highly unpleasant._

* * *

James rubbed his shoulder, the muscles still aching in a way that said he'd had a good workout, and smiled wearily as Steve fell into place at his side. It was nice, _right_ to have Steve there, where he had been for many years.

The Soldier had always known something, _someone_ had been missing for as long as he'd been in existence. He would often stare at the empty space on his left-hand side, and expected to see a short, scrappy boy at times and a tall, broad man at others. Neither image, each contradictory to the other, and yet somehow the same person, had made sense to the Soldier. But the feeling remained no matter how he'd try to shake it off.

It was only when _James_ had emerged from the scraps of Bucky and the Soldier that he understood how two vastly different memories could converge into the same man.

"How you holding up there, pal?"

"Better than you, old man." Steve snorted, walking with his usual unconscious grace, not a hair out of place and looking none the worse for wear in spite of their grueling four-hour training session.

James wasn't so lucky despite his own enhanced body; it figured that being the peak of human perfection opposed to one with a knock-off serum would have its perks.

"I'd like to remind you, pal," James said, only halfheartedly glaring at his oldest friend, "that while I may be two years older than you chronologically, I am now younger than you physically. And Jesus fuck, how weird is that."

"And, yet, you still got your ass handed to you." Steve sent him a sharp smile; one that he'd grown to both love and hate because it usually meant that he was up to something.

"Hey, I went easy on you today."

It was a lie. James knew it was a lie. Hell they _both_ knew it was a lie, but James couldn't keep himself from trying to save face. And damned if that statement didn't remind him a of a scrawny Steve Rogers right after James pulled him away from yet another fight, the words, _'I had him on the ropes,'_ echoing in his ears.

When had this become his life?

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Buck," Steve said, knowing perfectly well what James was thinking. Steve shot a grin at him as they turned a corner and passed from the training area and into the recreation halls of the Helicarrier.

James didn't even dignify that remark with an answer, merely grumbling under his breath, which just sent his traitorous best friend into sniggers at his expense. Why was he even friends with this asshole?

And then Steve sent him a smile that was pure sunlight, and James reluctantly smiled back, remembering all too well why he stuck around. It's not like his heart would let him do anything else. Too bad Steve's vision was far too focused on Stark these days to see what was at his side.

Sighing internally, James shoved the unwanted thought aside. He just wanted Steve to be happy; and if that meant that he found it with someone other than him, then so be it. He was quite aware that he'd changed from the young boy that Steve had once loved with every ounce of his soul, and Stark had already been in the picture long before James had broken through HYDRA's programming.

James couldn't blame Steve for moving on; and certainly not with the likes of Tony Fucking Stark, who was, in James' considerable opinion, one sexy fuck. Sexier than his old man even, and Howard had been the bees' knees back in those days. James probably would have jumped on that in a hot second if it hadn't been for Steve's very obvious, and often hilarious, mooning.

Not that Stark noticed. He was kind of oblivious in that way.

"I tell you, I'm the best there is," a voice drifted out of one of the lounges as they passed, interrupting James thoughts.

James turned his head to the right, and smirked when he caught one of the newbie male agents hitting on a female trainee, blind to her complete and utter boredom. They never learned. Glancing at Steve, he chuckled when Steve just shook his head at the scene, and then returned his smirk.

"Kids these days," he said, knowing that it'd make Steve laugh, and snark back.

"Get off my lawn."

James laughed loudly, which is why he likely missed the female operative's response. He readied himself with a reply, but was cut off when the true gem floated out the door.

"Please, Stark's not even a real Avenger."

James and Steve halted just a few paces from the door, and James couldn't help arch a brow when Steve stiffened, frowned and then turned slowly towards the open door with narrowed eyes. Damn it all to hell, he knew that look. Not that he didn't agree that the baby agent needed to be set straight, but he was fucking tired of this shit.

SHIELD must cater to the lack of common sense crowd, because baby agents were getting stupider and far cockier than their skill set warranted these days.

"Did he just say what I think he said?" James asked, the question rhetorical as he turned toward Steve for confirmation, only to find his friend still eyeing the door balefully. That was all the confirmation he needed.

James almost felt bad for the baby agent. Almost.

Meeting Steve's wrathful gaze, James spun on his heel and headed for the open lounge door, Steve hot on heels, his lips turning down as he heard the reckless recruit continue in an arrogant tone.

"He's just a consultant; and nothing without his suit. I could run circles around him any day."

The female agent, who he thought went by the name of Skye, just stared at the other agent impassively for a long moment before her eyes darted to the door. Her lips quirked when she spotted Steve and him leaning on either side of the doorjamb, their arms crossed over their chest and nodded in greeting.

Unfortunately, the baby agent took that nod as agreement to his statement and preened; and James couldn't help wondering where SHIELD had found someone so lacking in self-preservation skills. Not only was the agent completely unaware of his and Steve's presence, but that he'd blatantly disrespected an Avenger in a facility that was known to house the same team on occasion was so beyond stupid, it was nearly suicidal.

James glanced at Steve, a smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth as furious blue eyes met his, and mouthed, _'Wanna have some fun?'_

Steve smiled that same toothy, diamond-sharp smile he'd given James earlier, and nodded; and seriously, James had a love-hate relationship with that thing.

"Is that so," James said as he slid silently into the room, Steve an equally silent specter at his side.

Skye just smirked as the baby agent slowly turned and blanched to find Steve and James standing directly behind him with stern frowns etched onto their faces.

"M-Mr. B-B-Barnes," the baby agent stuttered, quailing when James sent him a look of sharp reprisal.

"That's _Agent_ Barnes, pal."

"S-ss-sorry, Agent Barnes."

"So," James paused as he walked to the now cowering agent and casually looked him up and down. The baby agent snapped to attention and swallowed harshly. "You think you can run circles around Iron Man."

"No...I just...I mean...I don't..."

"Not what it sounded like to me," James said, swiftly interrupting the stumbling explanation before the moron gave himself an aneurism. He turned to Steve with a tight smile. "What do you think of that, Steve?"

Steve stepped up to the plate, dragging a long, disapproving stare over the agent in question and sniffed dismissively. James couldn't help mentally cackling at the newbie's horrified expression when he realized that Captain America had judged and found him lacking. Steve was far too good at this game.

"What's your name, son," Steve asked, an unimpressed moue on his face.

"Agent Bruno Kreah, sir."

Recognition instantly flared in Steve's eyes, and James couldn't help grimacing as soon as the name flowed past the agent's lips. He'd heard of this douche, a self-proclaimed engineering genius that swore he was the up and coming Tony Stark. Much like the man he maligned, but in this case, the arrogance went unwarranted. He'd seen Stark storming the halls multiple times, swearing up a blue streak, after spending all day fixing this idiot's mistakes.

Unfortunately for the douche, Steve recognized it as well, and didn't pander to overconfident idiots. Any chance of mercy sailed right out the door as soon as he'd stated his name.

"Well then, I think Agent Kreah has just earned himself a spot on tomorrow's Avengers training roster," Steve said, his shark smile returning. "What do you think?"

And God damn it, James just wanted to roll his eyes and bang his head against something solid, (maybe Steve's head), because the man was just too damned predictable at times.

"I think you're right," James agreed, rubbing a thoughtful hand over his chin as he studied the ashen recruit; he had a role to play. "After all, anyone that can 'run circles around Iron Man' should be on the team. Right, Steve?"

James glanced away from Kreah towards Skye, who looked as if she was choking on barely suppressed laughter. He winked and flashed a brief smile before turning back to the conversation at hand.

"It's like you read my mind." Steve looked far too satisfied for the newbie agent's own good. "And seeing as Tony has to miss out on tomorrow's training op due to that mess at the Japan office, this will be the perfect time."

"Point," James nodded, feigning confusion. "Who was Tony paired with tomorrow?"

It was a pointless question. James knew very well just who Stark had been paired with since he'd been asked to take his place due to a Stark International issue. He'd even watched as Steve rewrote the schedule in order to account for the absence.

"Natasha," Steve said, again far too happy with that statement; he really needed to check that vengeful streak. The baby agent looked horrified, but quickly wiped it from his face. James gave him points for that. "They were going to work on some hand-to-hand. It will be the perfect induction for Agent Kreah, don't you think?"

James looked at the quivering agent in question and grinned.

"Absolutely. See you tomorrow, bright and early, pal."

"I do hope you'll get plenty of rest," Steve said, and then leaned in confidentially. "It's a full-day training session."

James saluted Kreah, who looked as if he wished the floor would open up and swallow him whole, turned on his heel, and walked out the door. Steve followed in his wake, a smug smile on his face, which broadened as a long, drawn out groan echoed down the hall. James chuckled and then bumped Steve's offered fist and made plans to make sure that the baby agent wouldn't try to weasel his way out of tomorrow's session.

... ... ...

The next day, James strode through the halls whistling cheerfully, a broad smile on his face and a, thankfully for him, now unconscious baby agent slung over one shoulder. Honestly, the moaning and whining had gotten to be a bit much coming from someone that said he could take on Iron Man.

James had to give Kreah more points. The man had shown up bright and early, and had taken his punishment without saying a word. Most people would have quit and been halfway across the world the instant that they heard they'd be training with the Black Widow. But Kreah had toughed it out.

He might just make it after all; _if_ he learned to keep his mouth shut.

James rounded the corner, and had just reached medical, when Coulson popped out of nowhere, as he often does, a thin smile on his face. James would think the man was a specter if it weren't for the steady pulse at the base of his neck with the way he materialized out of thin air.

Coulson looked at James, then looked at Kreah slung over his shoulder, and then back at James, and silently moved out of the way. James just smirked and carried Kreah through the door, laid him on one of the beds, all the while motioning to the staff to take care of their new patient, and then moved out of the way.

"Do I want to know?" Coulson asked with a resigned sigh as James exited the room to give the approaching medic room to work.

"Baby agent got mouthy. Thought he had what it took to be an Avenger." James paused and looked over his shoulder when the figure on the bed groaned. He waved at Kreah who was just coming around, and smiled, fairly certain that if the agent had the energy, he'd flip James off. James turned back to Coulson. "We disabused him of that notion."

"Please tell me he's in one piece," Coulson said, frowning as he inspected the agent. "I really hate dealing with the paperwork when you guys break them."

"Just a few bruises, a pulled muscle or two, maybe a cracked rib." James grinned unrepentantly as Coulson's lips grew thinner with each detailed injury. "Thought he might have dislocated his shoulder at one point, but it's just a bit banged up."

"God help me." Coulson sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "So, what did he do in order to deserve the Avengers' Special?"

"He decided that Stark wasn't a real Avenger," James said, his tone cooling instantly, all amusement fading from his expression.

"No." Coulson turned back to the baby agent, disbelief clearly painted on his face.

"Yup." James popped the 'P' at the end. "Trust me; he won't be making that mistake again."

"Please tell me Captain Rogers did not overhear that remark." And Coulson just closed his eyes when James nodded and confirmed that Steve had heard the comment.

"Steve was there."

"Christ," Coulson swore under his breath. "And I just put him in charge of Agent Kreah's training class."

"Well, Agent Mouthy is in good hands then," James grinned, all but cackling in delight at such a fortuitous turn of events; he couldn't wait to tell Steve. "Be seeing you, sir. Movie night. You know how it is."

"Yes, I know how it is," Coulson said, his tone as dry as the Sahara as he cast a knowing glance James' way, not in the least fooled. He knew exactly what James had been thinking. "Have a good evening, Agent Barnes."

James just nodded and walked out the door, pausing when he overheard Coulson address Kreah for the first time.

"So, what did we learn from this?"

James quietly chuckled when the agent just groaned in answer.

"That will do," Coulson said. "By the way; I was looking for you earlier to inform you that Captain Rogers will be heading up your next training class. I do hope you'll keep this in mind and watch your tongue. He's not exactly known for his tolerance when it comes to people bad mouthing his team."

Coulson paused.

"And he's the nice one."

James smirked and continued walking, eager to get out of there and fill Steve in on what he'd learned. Plus, they were watching the first Star Wars that was worth watching according to Clint and he didn't want to miss it.

* * *

**End Notes:** At first I considered using Coulson for this drabble, but quickly realized that there is no way in hell that any SHIELD agent would be crazy enough to say that about Phil, even if they were thinking it. Tony on the other hand, I can see baby agents underestimating Tony's worth to the team given his initial assessment and then getting owned by overprotective Avengers.

Also, Bruno Kreah was pulled from a Wikipedia list of SHIELD agents from the Earth 616 continuity. Literally, all I know about this character is this:

_Low-level engineer. He worked on the surveillance equipment used to infiltrate Datalink Systems._

The description fit with the back story I was going for with my character and thus I stole the name. I know absolutely nothing about his characterization in the actual comics.


	5. Son Like You

AN: Peter Parker and Tony Stark mentorship; background Steve/Tony.

**Bland Marvel Headcanon:** _Tony Stark really doesn't want kids; but if he did have a son, he hopes the kid would be something like Peter Parker._

* * *

**Son Like You**

"Jesus Fucking Christ, where the hell are all these little bastards coming from?" Tony groused, firing a repulsor at yet another mechanical, octopus-like thing, viciously glad when it exploded into a shower of sparks and flying metal shards. He was just thankful that the Avengers had managed to clear the area of civilians fairly easily, as between him, Hulk and Thor, they were making a grand mess of Doc Ock's newest minions.

"Language, Iron Man," Steve mildly rebuked, but there was a resigned quality to his tone as if he knew very well that his words would go unheeded. Smart call.

"Yeah, well you try dealing with…" Tony retorted, pausing as he just barely dodged the long tentacle that was doing its absolute best at trying to knock Tony from the skies. Tony took special exception to that and had a small missile with its name on it; he was beyond annoyed at this point by the shoddily put together robots, which were really only a danger because they were just that bad.

And there were so many of them.

"What would you even call these things?"

When the call to assemble had come in over an hour ago, with reports of several cephalopod entities tearing up Central Park, Tony had laughed for full on five minutes. Because seriously, who looks at one of those things and thinks,_'You will make the perfect minion.'_ And then they got to the location, and Tony was torn between laughter once more and wanting to cry because the things were an affront to tech everywhere. Tony had been close to going home at that point, but Steve gave him _'The Look,'_ \- capital 'T', capital 'L', trademarked - and he stayed put.

Now, he wished he'd followed his initial instinct.

Frankly it was bad tech, and there was nothing that offended Tony's sensibilities more than bad tech; at the very least, villains could build something that was a moderate challenge.

"Mechanical monstrosities?" Peter chirped as he swung by, webbing several of the flailing arms together, giving Tony the chance to get free. "Technical travesties? What is it with villains and their weird robots lately?"

"Ha!" Tony chortled, firing off the missile and grinning when the squid-thing blew apart in a million pieces. "Now, that I can agree with, Webhead."

"Chatter," Steve admonished by rote, obviously not meaning it, but feeling that he had to say something otherwise Coulson would sit them down for another of those 'Proper Use of SHIELD Communication Equipment' seminars; and no one, _no one_, wanted to sit through that shit.

Tony really needed to get on making them a set of comms and then SHIELD couldn't say a damned thing as to how they used their own equipment.

"Oh come on, Cap," Tony whined; not that he'd ever admit that it was whining. "You can't tell me you're taking this nonsense seriously. These are so cheaply made, it's pathetic."

"Maybe so," Steve agreed easily, but his tone remained grave as he slashed through the tentacles of the nearest octo-minion. "But I try not to underestimate any villain. Sometimes they do something so wrong, it actually turns out right for them."

"There ain't nothing right about this, Cap," Clint said, adding his two-cents as he fired off another arrow. Somewhere in the distance an explosion rocked the ground. Not that Tony felt it, but he could see Steve brace himself against the trembling. And _those_, those were the best things he'd ever created. He needed to make more for Clint.

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of," Steve muttered, slashing his shield through the last arm of the robot in front of him before taking it out with a well-placed throw.

"Please, Cap," Tony snorted, rolling his eyes at Steve's paranoia. "Honestly, what could possibly go wrong? These things are…"

In hindsight, Tony would later realize that those were exactly the wrong words to say on a mission; but at the moment he never even had the chance to finish his thought before Steve screamed -

"Tony!"

Followed by Clint cursing, "Jesus Fuck, watch out Stark! Where the hell did that bastard come from," before firing off an arrow at something behind him, just as another something rammed into him, throwing him to the side.

Tony cursed as the impact knocked him into a nearby building, slamming his head against the brick and set his ears to ringing, his vision graying around the edges. Shaking his head gingerly, Tony looked over to where he had once been situated and paled as Peter slumped to the ground, a spear impaled through his right shoulder; and knew, just _knew_, that if Peter hadn't knocked him out of harm's way, that spear would have impaled him straight through the heart.

Tony stared at Peter for a long moment, stunned, his head reeling due to both his injury and the realization of how close he'd come to death, and then, overcome by the pounding in his head, slipped into darkness.

… … … … …

Tony slowly awoke, the astringent scent of cleaning supplies, coupled with sterilized sheets, assaulting his nose and making him groan. He slit his eyes, blinking against the harsh glare of the lights, and was met with a pair of concerned, yet furious blue eyes. Flinching, Tony closed them once more and tried to speak, but it came out garbled.

Licking his lips, he cleared his throat and sighed with relief when someone turned off the overhead lights. Opening his eyes once more, he frowned at the hand suddenly in front of his face, holding out a cup, until his vision cleared and he followed the hand to an arm and then a face and realized that Steve was holding it out in front of him. Sliding one hand behind him, Steve lifted him just enough so that he could sip the water through a straw he'd stuffed into the cup, which soothed and cooled his parched throat.

"How long?" Tony managed to croak once the cup had been taken away, and Steve had laid him gently against the pillows.

"Only a couple of hours," Steve said, setting the cup on the table at his side, and then resumed his place in the chair at Tony's side, a weary look on his face.

Tony swallowed thickly, guilt chewing at his gut at the exhaustion he saw painted across his boyfriend's face, knowing that he was the cause.

"And Peter?"

"He's fine," Steve said, a tired smile on his face as he nodded to the curtained bed next to Tony. "Sleeping in the bed next to you. It was a clean wound that they easily stitched up, and he has a healing factor similar to mine, so he should be fine in a few days."

Tony nodded, and opened his mouth to respond, but at that point the medics swarmed in and they fell into silence as the locusts commanded Tony's full attention, poking and prodding at him, drawing blood, asking pointless questions that he could have answered in his sleep, getting in the way, and just adding to Tony's overall irritation. Bunch of vampires. They just didn't know when to leave well enough alone. He was fine damn it.

Unlike Peter.

Tony glanced over at the curtained bed, his sense of guilt coming back tenfold as he recalled all too well how the teenager had slumped, unconscious to the ground, impaled by the shard of metal intended for Tony; how Peter had put himself between Tony and a potentially fatal blow, landing himself in the bed next to Tony's. If Tony had taken the mission even remotely seriously, if he hadn't been so glib about Doc Ock's machines…

"You scared him," Steve said quietly, once the medics had taken their leave, and jolting Tony out of his thoughts. "You scared all of us. Jesus, Tony." Steve rubbed a weary hand over his face.

"Yeah, I know," Tony muttered, hunching his shoulders as he braced himself for the coming lecture. "Stop fooling around, pay attention, don't underestimate the big bads…"

"Don't." Steve bit out, cutting through Tony's bullshit with nothing more than that one word and a look. "Don't do that. You know that's not what I meant."

Tony remained silent, because yeah, he knew exactly what Steve meant, but he really didn't want to think about it right now. Instead he just looked away, tapping out an indistinct rhythm against the arc reactor. Steve huffed with exasperation and then grabbed his hand to stop its fidgeting, pulling it up to press a soft kiss into his palm. Tony's breath hitched, catching in his throat at the small show of affection, knowing how difficult these little public demonstrations were for Steve, and cherishing each one he chose to display.

Swallowing harshly, Tony squeezed the hand in return and really thought about what happened from Steve's point of view, his gut tightening at the mere thought of a stake impaled through Steve's heart. And knew that if the roles had been reversed, Tony wouldn't be holding up nearly as well as Steve.

"Sorry," Tony muttered, flicking an apologetic look Steve's way.

"I'm used to it," Steve sighed, but smiled nonetheless, pressing Tony's palm to his cheek. And Tony took a moment to revel in the simple affection. "But you owe _him_…" Steve nodded towards Peter, "…an apology. He was really freaked out when they brought him in, Tony."

"Yeah," Tony sighed heavily. "Yeah, I get it."

And Tony did get it. While the Avengers as a whole had taken Peter under their collective wings when they'd learned of this teenage superhero running around Queens on his own, it was Tony that Peter was closest to; the person he viewed as a mentor. He and Pete gravitated toward one another, much like Tony and Bruce had when they'd first met.

Something about them all being awkward, geeky science geniuses growing up, and therefore just understanding each other on an instinctive level that others couldn't.

"Sleep," Steve said, interrupting his thoughts once more. "He'll be out of it for at least the night with everything they shot him up with; and you can use some more rest yourself."

Typically, Tony would fight that command on sheer principle, but the meds were kicking in again and his head was aching and his eyelids were heavy, so he did the sensible thing for once and gave in to the pull of sleep.

… … … … …

A few hours of sleep, followed by more prodding, and a few threats later, Tony was up and dressed and sitting at a still sleeping Peter's bedside, a Starkpad in his hands, working through some ideas for the kid's costume. Because if the kid was going to be dumb enough to jump in front of a blow meant for one of his teammates, then he was damned well going to wear something better than spandex. The mere thought of that gave him hives.

He was in the middle of trying to figure out which alloy threads would work best with the fabric he'd chosen, in a much more muted tone of red and blue, (JARVIS mocked him heartily for that one given his own flashy armor, but the kid wasn't even eighteen; he did not need to make himself even more of a walking target than he already was), when a cough caught his attention.

Looking up, Tony watched in silence as Peter's lids fluttered for a moment, before blinking slowly open, a confused haze settling in his eyes until the memories of the previous day's fight came rushing back and he shot up in alarm. And then promptly flopped right back down with a loud, pained groan that even had Tony wincing in sympathy.

"Yeah, I wouldn't recommend that, kid," Tony said, drawing Peter's attention to him. "While you may have crazy healing abilities, you did get impaled by a spear. That's going to take some time to heal, _and_ it will hurt like a bitch until it does."

"Tony," Peter said, relief obvious in his tone. "You're okay. I mean, you are right? Are you okay? They wouldn't let you up if you weren't, right? You know Cap flips his lid every time you talk your way out of medical before they're ready to release you."

"Am I okay?" Tony asked incredulously, gaping at the boy in the bed. "Am _I_ okay, he asks. Christ kid. I'm not the one still in a hospital bed with a gaping hole in my shoulder. Am I okay? If I didn't know any better I'd wonder if you were the one that got hit in the head."

"A concussion isn't anything to sneeze at, Tony."

"Oh my God," Tony complained, rolling his eyes even as he pointed a finger at Peter, who had the nerve to grin at him. "No. Uh uh. We are not doing this. Nope. Steve is bad enough; I do not need another mother hen."

"I'm sure Captain Rogers would disagree on that, sir."

"Hey, what is this?" Tony spluttered as JARVIS added his two cents, and then glared when a snicker erupted from the bed. "Are you seriously ganging up on me? This is...this is so not on. I will not have this, JARVIS. Your primary protocol states…"

"That I am to ensure the safety of my creator at all costs," JARVIS countered. "I do not see how this interferes with my primary protocol. In fact, I would say it enhances it."

"And what is with this sass? I did not create you to sass…"

"You created me in your own likeness; so if I am indeed 'sassing you', as you put it, you have no one to blame but yourself. Sir."

"Traitors," Tony muttered, going back to his pad with a sniff, but he did smile as humor wiped the worry from Peter's eyes. "Traitors on all sides.

The two fell into a companionable silence as the medics came into the room, checking Peter's vitals and redressing his wound. Tony glanced up and winced, his guilt returning as he stared at the fiery red wound, although he had to admit that it wasn't nearly as bad as he expected having already closed. Thank Christ for healing factors because Tony really didn't want to try explaining that to Peter's Aunt May.

_'Yeah, so we were fighting this mad scientist and his shoddy mechanical cephalopods and your nephew stepped in front of a blow meant for me. Oh, why was he there, so far from school? Uh...you know, it's funny you should ask that. He's sort of an Avenger now given he was bitten by a genetically-engineered spider and developed spider powers as a result?'_

Somehow, Tony didn't see that going over too well.

When the medics left, Tony cleared his throat to get the boy's attention once more.

"So, it's come to my attention that I sort of owe you an apology."

"You don't have to," Peter protested, but Tony just held up one hand to silence him.

"Nonetheless," Tony continued, fixing Peter with a serious face. "I wasn't paying attention, and I didn't take the mission seriously, and it led to you getting injured. So, I'm sorry. And...and thank you. If you hadn't knocked me out of the way, it could have turned out so much worse."

"It was nothing," Peter shrugged, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "You would have done the same."

"I would have," Tony agreed. "Still you did good, kid. Your aunt would be proud of you."

Peter made a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat, his eyes darting away from Tony. And that saddened Tony a bit, because he knew that May had no idea what her charge was up to, and this was the least that could happen on a mission. It was enough to have him wishing that he could tell the boy to get out while he could; to grow up a bit and have a life before making this commitment. But, he also realized that the boy wouldn't stop and would just go off on his own if the Avengers pulled their support.

He had that same fire that he saw in Steve's eyes when he grabbed his shield; it was the same fire that was in Thor's when he gripped his hammer, and in Clint's when he strung his bow, or when Natasha charged up her Widow's Bite, or Bruce just before he hulked out.

It was the same fire he saw looking back at him from the mirror as he donned his armor, and there would be no stopping this kid.

The best he could do, was to keep him as safe as possible.

"_I'm_ proud of you."

Peter scoffed, but Tony saw the faint gleam of pleasure fill his eyes.

"Look, no, you know I'm not going to bullshit you," Tony said, setting his pad aside. He wanted to make this absolutely clear without any falsely perceived distractions. "Cap may be all rainbows and puppies about this shit, but I'm not. And…and I'm terrible at this."

Tony sighed, sat back, and studied Peter. He didn't even know where he was going with this, but he also knew that had the roles been reversed, and he was the teenager lying in the hospital bed, he would have wanted to hear this from his mentor.

"You know, I never wanted kids."

The expression on Peter's face was hilarious - a complicated, confused mixture of '_Oh God, why me_', (because, you know, _feelings_; and they didn't typically do feelings) and "_Duh, Stark; tell me something that any five-year-old with half a brain wouldn't have figured out within five minutes of knowing you._'

"Yeah. Yeah I know. Shocker." Tony folded his hands and averted his gaze because he knew he wouldn't get through this if he were looking at Peter. "My dad was an absolute nightmare as a father; and I am far more like him than I'd ever care to admit. I'm a sarcastic son of a bitch with a drinking problem and a workaholic to boot. I get so wrapped up in what I'm doing, I forget the people around me, forget that there is a life beyond my workshop and _that,_ that's just not on when you have a kid. And I vowed that I would never do that to one."

Tony cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his chair.

"So yeah, me a father? Ain't gonna happen. But..."

Tony paused, carefully considering what he wanted to say; because this was important, and no matter how emotionally challenged he might be, he needed to get the sentiment, if not the actual words, right.

"But if I did, by some fucked up quirk of fate, have a son," Tony said, meeting Peter's curious gaze for the first time since he started. "I'd want him to be like you."

Peter stared at him with a slackened jaw and eyes filled with awe. And Tony couldn't help the slight, weird, warm glowy feeling that came over him at that look.

"So, there you go," Tony continued, trying to inject a little levity into the the heavy moment. Because, again, _feelings_. Christ all this touchy feeling stuff was giving him hives. "Try not to let that go to your head."

Peter remained silent for a long moment, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he wanted to smile, eyes bright with something Tony couldn't quite decipher, but felt good about nonetheless.

"Does…" Peter croaked, and then paused to take a sip of water before trying again. "Does that mean you'll finally let me fly the Iron Man armor?"

Surprised, Tony let out a bark of laughter; of all the cheek.

"Yeah, let me tell you just where that lies in the realm of possibilities," Tony snorted, amused in spite of himself. "It resides between zilch and zero."

"That's the same thing." Peter looked put out.

"I know," Tony said, a bit smug as he picked up his Starkpad once more.

"That's not fair."

"Life's not fair, kid," Tony laughed, tapping in the password to unlock his screen. "If it were, we'd all be skipping through the daisies, and petting bunnies, not battling 'technological travesties' sent by your nemesis. Which he is by the way. No way am I claiming him. My nemesis have better taste than that. Typically. Outside Hammer that is, but really it's Hammer, so that says everything. Would you like it to slide into the negatives? Because, let me tell you, that is a viable measurement on my scale."

"I hate you," Peter complained, pouting as he leaned back in the bed.

"Wow, we've managed to establish a true Stark father-son bond in the matter of minutes," Tony smirked. "That's got to be a record. Even _I_ took a couple of years before I came to that conclusion."

"You suck." The tone was petulant, but Tony noticed that there was little actual heat behind it.

"Heartbroken. Truly. And, you know, speaking of travesties, we really need to do something about your uniform, kid. Because spandex, really? It's like you don't even know me and I can't be party to that horrific fashion faux pas any longer. That went out in the eighties, a decade when you were still in diapers, so there is no excuse for that mess…"

And if the tiny smile that slid across Peter's face did weird, warm, paternal things to Tony's heart, well, that was no one's business, but his own.


	6. Team Building

**AN:** Funnily enough, I wrote this vignette long before I knew the plot of Age of Ultron, but I waited to post it now for obvious reasons. Takes place after the first Avengers movie and therefore, is not IM3, T:tDW, CA:tWS, or AoU compliant.

**Bland Marvel Headcanon:** _The Avenger's Camping Trip is currently a level 7 disaster. No one is to speak of it. Ever._

* * *

Steve had known this would be a disaster as soon as the words 'team building' and 'camping' fell (spat) from Fury's lips in their last hash-out (bitch) session. That initial spike of dread only grew to epic proportions as the man continued on about 'getting away from everything,' so that the team could 'focus on strengthening their ties' and 'improving their communication.'

Or that was the gist.

His actual explanation contained quite of few more curses and swear words, along with some not so pleasant slurs against the team, than the watered-down version Steve used.

It also didn't help his sense of impending doom that Stark's face had grown darker, and more mutinous, with each passing word, his lips compressing into a thin white line and his eyes hardening to a fine point when Steve laid out Fury's plan. Steve had grown accustomed to that look over the months the team had been living in the tower, and knew that it spelled bad things for him, and subsequently, the rest of the team.

_Very._ Bad. Things.

Which was why he was shocked to find Stark alert and ready to go when he arrived at their predetermined meeting place, not exactly happy, but leaning against the SUV in casual clothes, with a pair of ridiculous sunglasses perched on the end of his nose. At his feet was a single duffle bag, filled with what he presumed was clothing for the weekend excursion given that there was a strict no electronics allowed clause written specifically for Stark.

"Morning, Cap," Stark greeted, nodding at him as Steve walked over, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Tony," Steve nodded, the name feeling odd on his lips; but part of the point to this exercise was for them to get to know each other and bond as a team. And, as was pointed out to him by several people, calling someone by their last name was a distancing technique, and as the leader he needed to set an example. "You're here early."

Stark's lips quirked, a mirthless huff spilling from his lips as he turned and studied the foliage around them with a sneer, and then turned back to Steve. "Didn't see the point in delaying the inevitable. This weekend's going to suck ass whether I show up late or not."

Steve drew a deep breath, and fought to not roll his eyes at the genius' contentious words. He had gone into this knowing that it was going to be a trying weekend and it wouldn't do to take offense from the very beginning. He had a feeling it was going to be tense enough without him and Stark fighting like cats and dogs, which was the exact problem that landed them in this mess in the first place.

"Well, you're not wrong," Steve said, a tight, thin smile on his face, unwittingly stealing Stark's words from the Helicarrier. He was going to attempt civility if it killed him on this trip.

"Of course, I'm right, Cap," Stark smirked, lifting one hand from his chest to tap at his temple. "Genius. Comes with the territory."

Steve did roll his eyes at that and barely choked back an exasperated huff as Stark shot him one of his annoying, PR smiles; one that he was certain the genius crafted just to annoy others. Looking away from the other man, Steve exhaled heavily, centering himself before he gave into the urge to call Stark out on his attitude.

There was just something about the other man that grated his last nerve.

"Any word on when the others will get here?" Steve asked, wanting to get this trip over with as soon as possible. The less time spent in Stark's company, the less he had to ruminate over the way the other man made him feel.

"Bruce is already here," Stark replied, nodding over at a thick copse of trees to the left. "He's having a bit of a zen moment before we get stuck in the car for the next three hours."

Steve glanced over towards the trees and hummed, just barely picking out a body-shaped shadow sitting on a fallen log.

"As for Birdboy and Red Death," Stark continued, grimacing at his reference to Natasha. Steve couldn't help wondering if there was a story there. "They should be here any minute. They were coming straight off of a mission according to Agent Resurrection, so that should be pleasant. Can't wait for that."

Steve grimaced himself at that information, wondering if Fury was just trying to push all of their buttons with this trip. Between Stark's complete and utter disdain for the idea of camping and Clint and Natasha fresh from a mission, tempers would be short at best. Add in Bruce 'I'm Always Angry" Banner, and Steve was ready to throttle the director for his interference.

"And Thor is still off planet, the lucky bastard, so he won't be joining us."

Steve huffed a laugh at that, because honestly, when Stark wasn't nettling him over being a nonagenarian, a man out of time, or demonstrating his desperate need for independence, the man was amusing. They would likely be great friends if they could just get past all the baggage between them, the biggest one labeled Howard Stark in bright red, bold, capital letters.

Steve sighed internally because he honestly didn't see that happening anytime soon. And he didn't know what to do with that. It was difficult for him to reconcile the Howard he knew with the Howard that Stark knew. With everything so fresh in his mind, he often forgot that the people he knew had led full lives and changed in ways he didn't understand. And not all of them positive.

Steve opened his mouth to respond, but luckily another SUV pulled up at that moment, a tired, and bruised Clint and Natasha spilling out of it with their own bags. They looked just about as happy as Stark to be there, but hid it better. If Steve hadn't gotten so good at reading people, he wouldn't have even thought there was something wrong.

The other two crossed over and tossed their bags into the back SUV, and then got into the cab without a word spoken, Clint taking the driver's seat and Natasha the navigator's seat. Steve stared at them for a long moment and then looked over to Bruce and Tony; the former of whom just shrugged, and the latter who just rolled his eyes at the agents' actions and then picked up his bag and tossed it the back before sliding into a seat next to Bruce.

Steve sighed and pressed a hand to his face, and then picked up his own bag and loaded it quickly and efficiently and then hopped into the very back, wondering just how much of a clusterfuck this trip was going to be.

In hindsight, had Steve been paying better attention, and knew Stark better, he would have realized that the other man's willingness to even get into the SUV without so much as a fuss was a sign that something was seriously wrong.

... … … … …

After three grueling hours of travel, in which Stark spent the entire time either poking and prodding at Bruce, testing the man's patience to the point he was gritting his teeth, and heckling Clint and Natasha, the latter of which was borderline suicidal in Steve's opinion, they made it to an already erected campsite. Something Steve was extremely thankful for because if he had to deal with any of them for another minute, he just might just snap himself.

And when he lost his temper, it was never pretty.

They all chose tents, with Steve and Clint bunking together, and Banner and Stark in another, and Natasha taking the single, because he was a gentleman. The latter made Stark snort and roll his eyes, and Natasha glare viciously, but Steve held his ground and they all separated to settle in and take a breather before meeting in the common area for a series of icebreakers they'd been assigned by some far too perky and optimistic intern.

In theory, it was a great idea, meant to bridge the gap between such disparate personalities; in practice, it was a nightmare. Whoever came up with these games had obviously never met Tony Stark; or understood his propensity to turn everything into a God damned joke.

Usually at someone's expense.

And no one, not even Banner, was safe from his razor-sharp tongue.

They started with an allotted fifteen minutes to create their own name tags, where they could write whatever they wanted - their names, words to describe themselves, drawings, etc. - on it. Steve put his name is neat letters, with a little drawing of himself with his shield and a few of his interests. Clint had his name and a little archer furiously firing arrows at someone that looked suspiciously like Fury. Banner had his name and a list of his accomplishments, along with he assumed was an atom of some sort. Natasha just wrote her name, and then stared down anyone if they even looked like they were going to comment on the lack of personalization.

Stark…

Stark didn't bother to put his name at all, as he said, 'if you don't know it, you've obviously been living in a cave and aren't important anyway.' Instead in bold letters he wrote: Genius, Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist. And next to it, a tiny Iron Man flipping off the world.

The next icebreaker was something called the Pocket Game, where each person selected one thing from their pockets that held personal significance for them and then explained why it held a special place in their hearts.

To be honest, Steve didn't remember much of what anyone said about the items they selected; not even his own. He felt bad about that, as he was sure that Banner had an amazing story to share about a very pretty locket; but everything paled in light of Stark's and Natasha's turn at bat.

Stark's was predictable; he pulled out a small tube of lube and went on to explain how he always kept a tube on him because you never knew when you might be in a tight jam, and need to get out of some bindings or lubricate some persnickety gadget. And then, just when Steve thought he was safe, Stark smirked and said, "It's also great for when you need to rub a quick one out. There is nothing more uncomfortable than trying to put on the suit when your dick is harder than a rock. But who would blame me? Have you seen the suit? It's a thing of sheer beauty."

And really, that was more than Steve ever wanted to know about Stark and his armor.

Natasha on the other hand pulled out her favorite knife. And the less said on that story, the better. Steve knew that he was going to be having nightmares for weeks.

The third game utilized paper airplanes, and whoever thought it was a great idea to give flying projectiles to an archer, obviously never met Clint. His aim _was_ true each and every time. Unfortunately Banner didn't find it very funny when he was on the receiving end of Clint's talents and Steve called a break for lunch and a nap or personal time before Banner showed off Hulk's throwing abilities.

At this point, he was just praying to make it through the day without an event.

... … … … ...

The day just got progressively worse from there.

It didn't take a tactical genius to see that forcing six fiercely independent, breathtakingly stubborn people to spend time together when it was the last thing they wanted to do was, to steal a phrase from Banner, chaos in a bottle, a ticking time bomb just moments from explosion. And when people like them got angry, were trapped or put in a position in which their fight or flight instincts were on a hair trigger, it resulted in events straight from Steve's worst nightmares.

Steve didn't even have the words to articulate just how progressively obnoxious Stark had grown throughout the day, needling everyone he came across, but seemed particularly focused on Banner for some reason, which caused the lead ball in Steve's gut to grow exponentially. Especially given the fact that Banner's skin had taken on a faint green hue in the past hour that had Steve's fingers twitching for his shield.

Steve would have said fuck it all, gathered them all up and gotten them the hell out of there before it could devolve into a complete, and utter, fiasco, but sometime between their arrival and when Steve decided to call it quits, SHIELD had taken off with their only mode of transportation.

When Steve got back, he and Fury would be having very short, pointed, stern words, because this was unacceptable.

Thankfully Stark had taken off for the bathrooms, bitching the whole way, so they had about five minutes needed, and well deserved, respite from his attitude.

"Is it just me," Clint said, looking off into the distance, his eyes scanning the direction Stark had taken uneasily. "Or has Stark been acting stranger than normal?"

"Oh good," Banner said, his breath whistling as it rushed past his lips, and his body sagged under the sudden release of tension that he'd been holding in his shoulders. "It's not just me then. I know Tony can be contentious, but he's not usually this bad."

"No," Natasha murmured absently, also staring at the area Stark had last stood with a funny expression on her face. "He's not."

"I have to admit," Steve sighed, rubbing a weary hand over his face as he leaned back against the tree behind him. "I was expecting him to try and weasel his way out of this."

"Pepper wouldn't allow it," Banner said, fingers fidgeting with the cuff of his long-sleeved shirt as his eyes darted towards the bathrooms and back nervously. "He tried to talk her into sending him somewhere for business, but Coulson cut him off at the pass by telling her about the retreat and she refused. He was not happy about that."

"You know," Clint smirked, huffing a small, incredulous laugh. "I fall in love with Pepper just a little more each day. I still don't get how Stark managed to bag a classy dame like that."

"You and me both," Steve grinned, but his voice went a bit wistful as he thought of Pepper, another strong, beautiful, independent woman that took no one's shit. Peggy would have liked her. "But they do genuinely love one another."

"I agree with Clint," Natasha said, eyes narrowing as she brought them back to the topic at hand. "Something is off."

"How so?" Steve asked, instantly sobering. If Natasha, who had spent the most time with Stark outside Banner, thought something was wrong...that just made Steve jittery.

"Well, he's just as obnoxious as ever." Natasha's lips quirked just the slightest at that, and her voice bone dry, before they both took a darker tone. "But it's stilted. Like he's gauging reactions or thinking things through a split second before he responds. It's infinitesimal, but the hesitation is there if you know what you're looking for...it's not his usual smooth banter."

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Clint's gaze sharpened as it met Natasha's.

"LMD?" Natasha asked, arching a single brow; Clint nodded thoughtfully.

"LMD?" Steve reiterated, completely confused.

"Life Model Decoy," Banner explained, comprehension and exasperation dawning in his eyes as he stared at the two spies. "It's essentially a sophisticated robot. An artificial intelligence built in the likeness of the owner, often used as a substitute for when the owner can't be somewhere."

"Or doesn't _want_ to be somewhere," Steve muttered darkly.

"That too," Banner agreed with a humorless smile.

"I knew this was too easy," Steve groused, now irritated beyond words. "Stark never gives in this easily."

"Fury has a few." Natasha nodded, lips compressing into a thin line. "Coulson has one as well. It's the only reason I even noticed something was off."

"So what do we do?" Steve asked. "Is there a way to turn it off?"

"No," Banner sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Not by us anyway. I'm sure that Tony has it protected by some sort of biometrics, so that only he can shut it down. Perhaps JARVIS if he's given the correct kill codes."

"Wonderful," Steve muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose, hoping to stave the headache that was blooming behind his eyes; which was a feat in and of itself. Due to the serum, such minor aches typically dissipated soon after they came.

Leave it to Stark to be a headache even the serum couldn't fight.

"We watch and wait," Natasha added with a frown. "Something is obviously wrong with the programming if we've noticed the hesitation at all. And it makes me nervous. Stark has a history of spectacular failures before he actually perfects his creations."

Steve opened his mouth to respond, but halted abruptly as a familiar voice rang out from behind him, sending a chill of foreboding sliding down his spine.

"Or maybe his creations are as they are intended and have evolved to a point where strings aren't necessary," the LMD smirked as it slinked through the trees past Steve, casting a sly glance Banner's way, whose hackles instantly raised. "What do you say to that, Dr. Banner?"

"Please tell me that Tony did not give you access to the suit," Banner grit out between clenched teeth, his eyes flashing green as he stared at the imposter.

"Well, now." The LMD's smirk broadened if it were at all possible, spreading smugly across its face, and Steve's sense of foreboding ratched up another notch. "What fun would it be if he hadn't? After all, what if we got a call to assemble?"

And with that, the LMD threw out its arms, and Steve watched in horrified fascination as the armor flew out of nowhere and wrapped around the artificial intelligence's body, who then threw himself up into the air with a blast of the repulsors.

"Catch me if you can, Avengers," it taunted and then shot out into the night.

"Son of a bitch," Clint cursed, running towards his and Steve's tent to grab his bow, muttering the whole way. "I am going to kill Stark when I see him next."

"Get in line," Natasha murmured as she strode past.

Bruce just growled low in his throat and clenched his hands, his skin turning an alarming shade of green that meant his transformation was imminent.

Steve couldn't help agreeing with that sentiment, shooting a dark look after the fleeing LMD as he stalked towards the tent for his shield, a grim smile etched onto his lips.

"Avengers Assemble!"

... … … … …

By the time that the battle was over, and the LMD was defeated, the campsite looked like it sat in the middle of a warzone, and not in rural upstate New York.

(And could Steve just say that he was thankful that someone at SHIELD had the presence of mind to rent out the entire campground for their retreat? He hated to think of what might have happened if civilians had been present when the LMD went rogue.)

Trees lay broken and scattered across the ground, some uprooted (Hulk), some broken in half (Hulk, Steve, and the LMD), while others were missing chunks (Steve, Clint, and the LMD).

Swaths of bushes and ground cover were charred to a crisp and smoldering, thin wisps of smoke rising like steam from a cup.

The grass was marred by divots. The concrete pathways pockmarked. The bathroom was a ruin, (likely a victim to the impressive fight between the Hulk and the LMD). Tents were shredded. Clothes and bags were strewn everywhere. Picnic tables were overturned. And trash cans had been annihilated, leaving behind trash and a stench that had Steve gagging as he passed by.

And in the middle of all the destruction laid the still flaming remains of the rogue LMD, sans armor, with the team gathered wearily around it in chairs (if they could be salvaged), or on a patch of cleared ground, silently cursing its creator. At some point, someone had gotten up, (Steve thought that it was Clint), and grabbed a bag of marshmallows that had miraculously survived the battle and brought them back over to where they were sitting, while another handed out sticks, (and he's pretty sure that was Natasha), for roasting.

And that was how Stark found them, all sitting around, bruised and bloodied, ash smeared across their cheeks and clothing, toasting marshmallows over his incinerated LMD.

"Do you…" Stark gasped, staring at the flaming LMD in dismay. "Do you have any idea how much one of those costs?"

Steve just sent him an unimpressed look, while Hulk growled low in his throat. Natasha hissed, making the genius back up a step, all the while watching her warily (and wasn't that impressive). Clint...Clint just reached down, grabbed his bow and fired another arrow into the smoldering remains, kicking up the flames once more much to Stark's horror.

And that seemed to sum up all of their feelings on that statement.

Steve couldn't even feel bad over it. They had gotten lucky. While JARVIS hadn't been able to regain control over the LMD, he could take over the armor, and it was only due to his interference by hacking into said armor, ejecting the LMD and locking down the armor that they had even had a chance. It could have gone so much worse otherwise.

It was obvious the others agreed, as Natasha just hummed in pleasure and then grabbed another marshmallow and began roasting it over the renewed flames.

"Well," Steve said in a low, dangerous tone, and then had to pause when shifting in his seat for a better look at the genius made his bruised ribs flare with pain. Drawing in a shallow breath from his nose, Steve closed his eyes until the pain mellowed and then opened them to glare at Stark as he continued. "Maybe you should have been here to contain it instead of gallivanting around…where was it, JARVIS?"

"Malibu, Captain Rogers," a tinny voice crackled to life from the Iron Man armor standing sentinel over the remains of the LMD.

"There you go," Steve said with a satisfied smile. "Knew it was one of those fancy, beach resort type places…"

"I was in the workshop, working. It was hardly a vacation," Stark hissed, but then took another step back when Hulk grumbled and shot him a glare, before blathering on. "And you're lucky you're so adorable, Cap; otherwise we'd be having words regarding my LMD."

"Actually, not my doing," Steve smirked. And it hadn't been his fault, although he would have happily done it himself. "You have issues, take it up with Hulk. He has a bone to pick with you anyway."

Hulk just grunted his agreement and then accepted the marshmallow that Natasha handed him with a pleased grin, dropping it into his mouth with a happy rumble.

"On second thought," Stark hedged, shifting uneasily. "I'm just going to shut up now."

"You do that," Steve said, picking at his own marshmallow. "By the way, to make up for this debacle, not only will you be paying to renovate the camp grounds due to Hulk's temper tantrum; you will also be planning and paying for our next team retreat."

"What?" Stark squawked, but quieted once more when Hulk grumbled.

"Or I could just tell Pepper…" Steve trailed off and let the other man fill in the blanks.

"Uh, planning the next retreat it is…"

"I thought you'd see it my way," Steve said, satisfied.

"Are we done here," Natasha broke in for the first time, picking out a leaf from her hair. "I have a bone to pick with Fury for this disaster."

"Stand in line," Steve muttered to himself. He and Director Fury were going to have a long, unpleasant conversation about interfering with the Avengers again.

"Wait, what?" Stark asked, gaping at Steve. "I thought you were a part of this madness? Did I miss something?"

"Tony, you get hives whenever you have to stay in anything less than a five-star hotel. Do you honestly think I'd suggest taking you camping?"

"Well, when you put it that way..." Stark muttered.

But the others didn't bother to answer, they just stood up and started packing their things. Steve was so done with this retreat and was leaving even if it meant he had to walk the entire way.

… … … … …

"And this is why we don't allow the Avengers to camp," Phil stated implacably, eying the stunned recruits in front of him. "_Ever._"

Phil stared at the horrified faces staring up at him, letting his words sink in for a moment. This had all started when Phil had passed one of the recreational areas and overheard a few of the new recruits scoffing at how a camping trip could be so bad it needed two level sevens to even read the file. Apparently someone had been snooping where they shouldn't, and saw a file named _Avengers Camping Trip: Level Seven Disaster_.

And no. Just no.

Phil hadn't survived that disaster to have some smart-mouthed baby agent (and Christ, Stark had him saying it too) come along and say something to the wrong people (namely the Avengers), who would then feel the need to prove them wrong.

Because that was his life now.

"And, if I hear of any of you even jokingly suggesting another camping trip, you will be put on the Avengers clean-up detail for six months without break. Any other questions?"

"Sir," Agent Felicia McBryde asked hesitantly. "How did no one notice…"

"Oh, they noticed," Phil cut off, his lips thinning as he recalled the hysterical campground owners. "Believe me, there was no way you could miss it. Luckily, we were able to play it off as a training exercise and demonstration. Plus, Stark paid double what he owed, so they were happy enough to keep quiet. And we are done for the day. Class dismissed."

The class as a whole stared at him, but quickly gathered their things and hurried out the door when he arched a brow, the vast majority staring and shaking their heads at Nick as they passed. Nick merely stared back harder, causing most to fluster and hurry out, although one or two held their ground. He'd have to keep an eye on them. They needed more agents unafraid to call Nick on his bullshit.

Nick waited until every agent was out the door, and out of earshot, before he turned back to Phil with an exasperated look.

"Must you tell that story to every new recruit batch?"

"Yes." Phil said, his tone steely as he shot the director a baleful glare. "Because I will be damned if I'm going to clean up after you again."

"They worked together didn't they," Nick began, but Phil quickly shut him down.

"Level seven disaster, sir. And a completely unnecessary one at that."

"I say it was worth it," Nick muttered.

"And that is why any suggested Avengers bonding activity is vetted through me first," Phil smirked as he finished gathering his things and then walked to the door. "If that will be all, sir, it's movie night - a thoroughly tame, sane and well liked Avengers bonding experience. We should give the person who thought of that one a raise." Phil paused thoughtfully, enjoying the tick next to Nick's eye at that comment. "Oh wait, that was me. Until tomorrow. Sir."

Phil turned and left, looking forward to a few hours of mindless entertainment and greasy take out, chuckling to himself when Nick muttered to no one in particular.

"I get no respect around here."


	7. Just Desserts

**AN**: Steve typically has the patience of a saint; but Tony has a way of pushing his buttons even on the best of days. So when Tony blows off dinner with him and Pepper once again, he decides it's time to make a point. Slice of life ficlet that came about when I was chatting with my beta Whimsicality. Pepper/Tony/Steve.

* * *

**Just Desserts**

Tony came out of his latest engineering binge, and blinked, surprised by the lack of light streaming through his workshop windows. Glancing over at them through blurry eyes, he noted that it was well past twilight and heading on into full dark. When had that happened? Hadn't it just been noon? He could have sworn that Steve had just been down with lunch and to nag him about something, but he couldn't recall just what at the moment.

"Time, J." he muttered, turning back to his screen, saving and closing the tab he'd been working in, which had been an upgrade to the arc reactor powering the building.

"It is eight-thirty, sir."

"Huh," Tony hummed absently to himself.

That was odd. Given the way they were always harping on Tony to lighten his work load and to stop spending all his time holed up in his workshop, he was surprised that neither Steve nor Pepper had been down yet to drag him out. Or that JARVIS hadn't reminded him of the passing time so he could greet his lovers when they got home.

"Save everything and close it down, JARVIS."

"As you wish, sir."

Tony tipped his head up and his gaze narrowed as he detected a clipped note of mild disapproval in his artificial intelligence's tone; but for the life of him, he couldn't think of a reason why JARVIS would be in a snit. Shrugging, Tony headed for the elevator and quickly made his way up in silence, and then paused in between the doors when it became obvious that the penthouse was dark and no one was home.

"Hey, J," Tony said, stepping into the lounge as he looked around. "Where are Steve and Pepper?"

"They are out to dinner, sir," JARVIS said, again, a note of disapproval in his voice.

"Without me!?" Tony exclaimed, a bit affronted that he hadn't been invited.

True, they didn't always have dinner together. That's the reason the relationship worked between three such disparate personalities. Sometimes they did things together, and sometimes it was just Tony and Pepper, or just Tony and Steve. And sometimes Pepper and Steve attended an event that Tony had absolutely no interest in. Like art shows. If Tony never had to go to another of those, it would still be too soon.

But usually they at least kept him in the loop when they had plans.

"If I may remind you, sir," JARVIS said, interrupting his indignant inner monologue. "They asked you several times today if you were attending. You changed your mind exactly nine times, the final being to tell them that you couldn't leave now because, and I quote, 'genius things are happening and genius waits for no man.'"

"But..."

Tony trailed off as he recalled his earlier impression of Steve coming down at lunchtime to talk to him about something, and Tony waving him off because he had been knee-deep in coding for the newest Starkpad. Steve had rolled his eyes, but left him to it, obviously resigned that he wasn't going to get anything out of Tony.

Right.

"Well, where are they? I'll just join them," Tony asked as he headed towards their bedroom. Yeah, he could be a self-centered ass, but he did try not to take them for granted, and it seemed that he had some serious making up to do.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that, sir."

"What do you mean you can't tell me?"

Tony halted his trek, his stomach sinking at those words. And now that he thought on it, he remembered a couple of calls from Pepper that he cut off with short answers.

"Ms. Potts left explicit instructions that if you were to finally emerge from your 'man cave' while they were gone, that I was not to tell you where they had went because 'if you couldn't find the time to have dinner with them,' then you can fend for yourself."

"What?" Shit. He was in so much trouble.

"I've also locked down both of their phones, so that you, and I quote, 'can't whine to them about leaving you behind."

"We'll just see about that," Tony muttered as he continued into their shared room, sloughing off his clothing as he walked. "Is the GPS still activated?"

Tony stepped into the bathroom, happy to see that the water was already running. JARVIS couldn't be too mad at him if that were the case.

"Ms. Potts has activated her 'I'm running your god damned company; leave me alone, Tony,' override. Captain Rogers' is still active, however."

"Ha! Gotcha old man!" Tony crowed as he stepped into the shower. Steve always forgot about the GPS. Quickly scrubbing up, Tony rinsed off and commanded. "Track it and give me the location, J. I need to get ready. I have a dinner to crash."

"As you wish, sir."

Tony could practically see the AI rolling his eyes, if he had them, but JARVIS did as he was told as Tony quickly dried off and sauntered into his closet to dress. If that's the way they wanted to play it, he was game. And was so much better at it.

... ... ... ... ...

"This was a great idea," Pepper smiled, her hair shining like rose-tinted gilt in the low light, and Steve couldn't help a soft smile in return at his thoughts. Once an artist, always an artist.

"I'm glad you're enjoying it," Steve replied quietly, sipping the wine that Pepper had selected to go with their dinner. He didn't know anything about wine, but it went down smoothly and tasted good with the steak he was eating, so he was happy.

And Pepper seemed to enjoy it, commenting every so often about cherry notes and a hint of chocolate, and other things Steve couldn't even begin to fathom, her cheeks sweetly flushed, and lips wet and full and stained just a shade darker. She reminded him of one of those Greek goddesses, and God, didn't he just love it. It was times like this his fingers itched to capture her in her full glory.

And he had. Often.

Steve flushed as his thoughts took him places that were impolite in public, made all the worse for the knowing smirk Pepper flashed his way.

"Well, I won't ask what you're thinking of," she teased, her bright blue eyes sparkling as she set down her glass. Steve's cheeks grew hotter, but he remained silent. His lover knew him far too well for him to even attempt faking innocence. "But it was. I'm glad you suggested having dinner here instead. I'm having a wonderful time."

"Me too," Steve said as he watched Pepper through his lashes.

And he was. He cherished every moment he got to spend with Pepper. With their busy schedules, quiet moments like this were few and far between. But there was, of course, something missing. Steve turned to the empty chair where their missing third would usually sit and his face darkened.

"I just wish..."

"Me too," Pepper said, a sad, resigned smile on her face. "But what are you going to do? You know how he gets when 'a genius idea' strikes him."

And Steve did. That genius was one of the things that drew him in, like a moth to a flame, from the very beginning.

"I know."

... ... ... ... ...

Tony got out of his car; he was beyond annoyed at this point. He had spent the last hour chasing down Steve and Pepper, and every time he got close, JARVIS would break in to tell him that they were on the move again, leading him on what was beginning to feel like a wild goose chase. He was this close to giving up and just locking himself up in his workshop when JARVIS gave him this location and said that it hadn't moved in the past fifteen minutes.

Looking up, he was surprised to note that it was a diner of some sort, but just shrugged his shoulders and kept walking. It wasn't what he'd been expecting when JARVIS had told him that Pepper and Steve went to dinner. He was way overdressed. But Steve did seem to have an odd fascination with cheap, greasy food, served in out of the way holes in the wall, so it wasn't that out of character either.

Sliding through the door, he tossed a quick smile at the stunned girl at the hostess stand and kept walking without a word towards the dining area. He paused and looked around, but didn't see the familiar face that he was expecting. Instead, Steve's friend Sam was sitting at the counter talking to a very good-looking blonde. Just not the blonde he was looking for.

"Sam?"

"Hey, Tony," Sam greeted, a warm, surprised smile sliding over his face as he turned to Tony. "What are you doing here?"

"I was..." Tony began, but then halted. He didn't really want to admit aloud that he had been tracking his lover's phone in a fit of pique because he'd gone out to dinner without him. "Where's Steve?"

"No idea." Sam looked surprised by the question. He exchanged a quick look with the blonde and when she shook her head, he turned back and shrugged. "I haven't seen him all day."

"But..." Tony trailed off, uncertain. He knew that the trail lead here. JARVIS was never wrong. "His phone...I tracked it..."

"Oh." Sam's eyes widened, nearly bugging out before they narrowed; then his voice went flat and his smile thinned as he pulled a familiar phone out of his jacket pocket. "Is this it?"

"Yeah," Tony nodded, confused. He took the phone from him. "What are you doing with it?"

"Look man, I have no idea what's going on." Sam held up his hands in front of him. "I saw Natasha at the store and she handed me this phone and told me to take it with me. No explanations. No directions outside of that."

"And you just took it?" Tony arched a skeptical brow.

"Would you argue with Natasha?" Sam said, an unreadable expression on his face. "I like my dick attached to my body, thank you very much."

"Point."

Tony reluctantly chuckled and the blonde at Sam's side snorted in a way that told him that she was all too familiar with Natasha and her tactics. Which made sense since she was SHIELD if he recalled correctly. But all humor flew away to be replaced by perturbation, embarrassment and a hint of hurt as he stared at the phone.

Why would...?

"Sorry, man," Sam continued softly, apologetically. And Tony didn't even want to know what his expression looked like to put that sad, compassionate look in Sam's eye.

"I really haven't seen him at all today. I called him this morning, asking if he wanted to join me and Sharon for dinner, but he said he had other plans. And then earlier this evening, Natasha came up to me, and I really do _not_ want to know how she found me so easily, and handed me this phone and told me to keep it on me while I ran my errands today. That's all I know."

"Yeah, I get it," Tony said, rubbing a hand over his face as he tucked the phone in his jacket. "Sorry you got caught in the middle of...I'll take this with me. They shouldn't have involved you no matter how annoyed they might be at me."

"Hey, it's no problem," Sam said, waving off Tony's concern. "Seriously. I know how those things work. I don't blame you. Although, when you do catch up to Steve, tell him I'm not too happy about being put in the middle of...whatever this is."

"Will do," Tony nodded, a tight smile on his face. He lifted his hand in a halfhearted wave. "You two enjoy the rest of your night."

And then Tony turned on his heel and stalked out the door.

... ... ... ... ...

"So, on a scale of one to ten," Steve asked, toying with the last of his meal. Pepper watched as he absently moved it from one side of his plate to the other, a frown on his face. "Just how mad do you think he'll be when he figures it out?"

"Oh, definitely at least a twenty," Pepper drawled knowingly. She swirled the last of the wine in her glass, feeling warm, relaxed, well fed and just a touch smug knowing exactly how Tony would react to their scheme.

And she was glad for it.

It wasn't that she wanted to sow the seeds of discontent or strife between her lovers. She really didn't. But this had been building up for a while and Steve needed to make a point, just as she did during the palladium scare.

She loved Tony heart and soul, and had for years. She was used to his thoughtlessness and had a thick enough skin to let it slide off her back. But Steve was so young, and he was new to their relationship. He hadn't developed that callus yet, and Tony needed to see that he couldn't be careless with his feelings, unintentional as it was.

"Good." Steve said, and Pepper bit back a laugh at the vindictive tone. "I should feel bad about this, but I told him about wanting to cook for you guys earlier this week. And then three days ago. And then again last night. I even put the time, date and where on his calendar. If he can't be bothered to look at it, well, I can't be bothered to remind him yet again."

"I'd say, he'll learn his lesson..." Pepper paused, a shrewd smile on her lips. "But he won't. He'll get better for a time, but this will happen again. I guarantee it."

"How have you put up with this for years?" Steve "It's only been six months, and he's already driving me crazy."

"I love him," Pepper said simply, meeting exasperated blue eyes. "And his strengths and good points more than make up for his faults."

"Yeah." Steve deflated, his shoulders slumping as he rubbed his hands over his face. "Doesn't make it any less aggravating."

"Well, no," Pepper conceded, and then paused to finish off her wine. She set the glass aside and fixed Steve with a direct look. "But this is Tony. He has changed, but...

Steve looked skeptical. And Pepper couldn't blame him for that because he didn't have the history, the knowledge she did of Tony.

"Oh, believe me, he used to be worse than this before..." Pepper paused, a subtle shudder rippling through her as she recalled those months that Tony had gone missing, "...well, before. He's got his issues, but he tries really hard to be better, to be more than what he was, and to stop taking everything for granted. But...Tony thinks on a different level than most people, and sometimes he forgets that we can't follow him. It's a work in progress."

They fell into silence after that, each lost in their own thoughts, and Pepper briefly considered getting another bottle of wine, but that meant she'd have to get up, take the elevator to the penthouse, grab a bottle and come back. And she was far too comfortable to move. She supposed she could just ask Steve. He'd be happy to do it. But it might be wiser to maintain a clear head for what was to come.

When Steve came to her after lunch, frustrated because Tony had changed his mind yet again on dinner, she'd been the one that suggested moving their dinner from the penthouse to Steve's apartment a couple floors down. Well, what had once been his apartment. He spent more time in the penthouse these past few months than he did here. His moving in was only a formality at this point considering most of his stuff was already there.

But she kept the apartment open for him, as she also kept _her_ own floor, because as much as she loved Tony, he could be a little much to handle and sometimes you just needed space. Not to mention some peace and quiet. But she digressed.

The dinner had originally been planned for the penthouse, but Tony would have come in and just sat down, and Steve would have allowed it because for all that he was unyielding in a fight, he was also soft touch when it came to those he loved. And then Tony wouldn't have learned a damned thing, and Steve would become resentful.

And that would be bad for their relationship.

It was good for Tony to realize that they weren't pushovers and that he needed to be more aware of how his actions affected the people in his life.

But...

She also knew that under his sometimes rampant ego-centrism, lay a fragile heart. And while this will infuriate him, it was also going to hurt him to a degree. Tony thought far too little of himself on the best of days, and when it came to something like this...

Actually, maybe she should have that drink after all.

"You know that once he figures it out, he's going to lock himself down in the lab and sulk," Pepper said, breaking the silence.

"Yeah I know," Steve sighed, sitting back in his chair.

"You do also know that it's your turn to extract him," Pepper reminded him.

"I thought today was your day?" Steve looked up, vaguely unsettled by that thought.

It had long been a running joke between them on whose turn it was to pull Tony out of his cave. And maybe it was her turn, she had trouble keeping track, but she wasn't touching this one with a ten-foot pole.

"Oh, sweetheart, no." Pepper shook her head. "This is all on you."

"I pulled him out for that board meeting..."

"Steve, I've been doing that for over ten years; it doesn't count."

"It should," Steve said a bit petulantly. "Do you know what he's like as soon as he hears the words 'board meeting...'"

"Yes," Pepper laughed. "Yes I do. And you'll get no sympathy from me."

... ... ... ... ...

Tony came back in a proper snit.

At least that's how Pepper would have termed it.

Frankly he felt he was justified in his anger since his lovers sent him on a wild goose chase all across Manhattan for no apparent reason. He stormed into his workshop, yanking off his suit jacket on the way, and tossed it at the chair, his mind in turmoil and seething over the night's events. He came to a halt in the middle of the room, blue holographic light popping up around him as he raised his hands.

"JARVIS, lock it down," Tony commanded through grit teeth, steadily ignoring the pang in his heart even as he said it. "Code Foxtrot Uniform Charlie Kilo Uniform."

Because fine, if that's the way they wanted to play it, they could do it on their own. No skin off his nose. He didn't need them anyway. He was perfectly happy here on his own.

"Pull up the schematics on the new arc reactor. I want to run some more…"

And that's when he noticed it.

A bright red square flashed at him from the corner of one of his screens. Turning his head, he noted that it was his calendar. Tapping on the square, his ire melted away and his stomach sank as he looked at it for a long minute, and then cursed under his breath.

"JARVIS, what day is it?"

"Friday, April 12, sir."

Tony's stomach sunk further. "Shit. Steve's dinner."

"Captain Rogers was indeed planning on making dinner for you and Ms. Potts tonight."

"Well, fuck," Tony said; he sat down heavily and dropped his head in his hands. "I screwed that one up, didn't I, J?"

The silence that followed was the only confirmation he needed.

... ... ... ... ...

Steve smiled at Pepper's teasing, and opened his mouth to respond in kind when he was interrupted by a voice from overhead.

"Captain Rogers, Ms Potts, I hate to interrupt, but Sir has returned and realized his error. I think now would be a prudent time for one of you to talk to him before he becomes morose and self-destructive."

"Shit." Steve swore under his breath, his gut tightening as stood immediately. He ran his hands through his hair and blew out a breath, looking away from Pepper almost shamefaced at his earlier attitude. He should have known better.

"I'll...I'll be right down, JARVIS. I shouldn't have..."

"Hey, none of that," Pepper said firmly, garnering his attention. "You did nothing more than make an important point to Tony. One that he desperately needed. He sometimes needs a kick in the pants to realize that he needs to pay more attention. It will be fine."

"But..."

"But nothing," Pepper reasserted, leaning forward with her hands clasped on the table, her posture forcing his continued attention. Steve studied her quietly, torn between remorse and justification in his actions. Pepper merely raised a brow at his dithering and continued quietly. "It will be fine. _He_ will be fine. Trust me. Tony is made of stern stuff. Now go down and pick up our man and bring him back up for dessert."

Steve stared at his lover for a long time, his mouth opening and closing several times. He wanted to protest. He wanted to take the blame onto himself, to chastise his own actions. He'd known what Tony was like long before they started dating. That Tony got caught up in his work wasn't exactly news.

And Steve certainly could have made him listen rather than acting like a petty child. He really was just as much at fault. But Pepper just watched him serenely, a placid smile on her lips and he decided to trust her assessment.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, swallowing thickly.

"Good boy," Pepper nodded and sat back in her chair.

Steve huffed and rolled his eyes, but headed for the elevator nonetheless. He had a genius to wrangle and he wasn't certain of his reception.

... ... ... ... ...

Tony sat with his head in his hand for, well, he didn't know how long, but at the very least several long, painful minutes before JARVIS interrupted his looping, dark thoughts.

"Sir, Captain Rogers is approaching the door."

"Let him in, JARVIS."

Tony rubbed his hand over his face and then straightened as he heard footsteps behind him, but he didn't turn around. Instead, he chose to stare at an indistinct point at the back of the workshop. He braced himself as nearly silent footsteps crossed the room, expecting disappointed words at the very least, if not outright anger, but Steve only slid his hands onto Tony's shoulders and squeezed. And that just made him feel worse.

"I forgot about your dinner," he said, the _'I'm sorry'_ unspoken, but obvious in his tone.

"Yeah," Steve sighed as he rubbed Tony's shoulders, working out the knots that had built in the short time he'd discovered his mistake. And seriously, he did _not_ deserve this man. "Yeah you did. But, it's okay. I know how you get when you're on an engineering streak."

"No," Tony said firmly, and hastily swiveled around so that he could meet Steve's eyes; Steve just stared at him placidly, his hands still resting on Tony's shoulders.

"No, no, no; that is never okay, Steve. You shouldn't be okay with this. You told me several times and I...I should have paid more attention. I never, _never_ want you or Pep to think or feel like I'm taking you for granted. I promised, I made vows to myself after..."

But then Tony's words were cut off as Steve gently tugged him out of his chair and kissed him. He made a low, confused sound in the back of his throat and fought against the caress at first still trying to make his point, but he'd never been good at denying himself nor could he resist Steve when he got like this.

So, after a moment's pointless struggle, Tony melted, sinking into the kiss as he wrapped his arms around Steve. And God, he just loved this man so much. Loved everything about him from his stubborn refusal to back down to anything, to the sassy little shithead that challenged Tony on a daily basis, to the vulnerability that he hated showing to anyone.

Especially those closest to him.

Loved him to pieces, which is why it killed him that he had thoughtlessly shunted him aside in the middle of one of his 'engineering blackouts' as Pepper called them, where he heard nothing around him but the numbers and codes and metal. He'd promised to be better than this.

Sighing as Steve pulled away from the kiss, Tony opened his eyes and gave Steve a sad smile.

"It's okay, sweetheart." Steve rested his forehead against Tony's. "It was just dinner."

"Yeah, it was just dinner this time," Tony said, his smile taking on an edge of bitterness. Because he was going to fuck this up. He knew he was. He'd forget again and next time he might not get the chance to make up for it. "But what if next time it's an anniversary or a birthday or some event that is important to you? I can't..."

Tony's words were cut off once more by soft lips; and he and Steve really needed to have a discussion on the appropriate way of shutting someone up, because this was unfair. He didn't have an adequate defense against Steve kisses.

Or Pepper ones for that matter.

He sensed a conspiracy.

Steve pulled away, leaving Tony reeling and uncertain of his standing. He'd expected Steve to be annoyed, or the very least hurt and disappointed that Tony had let him down yet again, given the phone incident. Instead, Steve looked vaguely apologetic as he studied Tony, as if_ he_ had been in the wrong. It didn't make any sense.

"_If_ it were any of those things, you can be sure we would have been more insistent about you attending," Steve assured, but that didn't make Tony feel any better. In fact, it made him feel worse because it sounded like Steve was expecting him to forget an anniversary or birthday.

And Tony must have also become transparent, because Steve just gave him an exasperated look and said, "I said _if._ I really don't think that would be the case. But _if_ it were to happen to _any one of us_, you can be sure that we would remind the other of why it was important. Or at the very least, we wouldn't have asked JARVIS to remain silent."

Tony swallowed thickly and looked away, unable to meet Steve's eyes, his hands clenching and unclenching around the soft line of Steve's shirt.

"I don't deserve you. Either of you."

"That's for us to determine."

Tony closed his eyes. Well, when Steve put it that way, what _could_ Tony really say? If he were to insist that they were better off without him, he'd just be insulting their intelligence and then he'd really be in trouble.

An angry Steve he could deal with; Steve would get into his face and yell at him and tell him he was being stupid, and Tony would yell back, and they'd go back and forth until one of them were backed into a wall and they kissing the hell out of each other. And, well, and more.

And Tony could deal with that. He got that.

It was Pepper that got to him. Even after all these years, it was Pepper's reactions that made him feel small. Pepper of the tight smiles and clipped responses and wounded eyes and yeah...he couldn't do that to her. It was bad enough that she had that look in her eyes every time he and Steve left for a battle. He didn't need to add to it with his own stupidity.

So he didn't say anything, even if he didn't agree.

"This is my fault too," Steve said as he broke the silence between them. "Instead of talking to you, I got annoyed and petty."

Steve looked chagrined by that admission, garnering a little chuckle from Tony. And it was true. Few people realized that Captain America could be just as childish, petty and petulant as the rest of them. But then, that was the problem wasn't it? They were seeing Captain America and not Steve Rogers. The scrappy boy who wouldn't back down for nothing.

"It happens to the best of us," Tony smiled ruefully, rubbing the back of Steve's neck. "And it _was_ kind of funny when Sam nearly shat his pants when he realized he'd unwittingly landed smack dab in the middle of one of our squabbles. You'll probably be hearing about that in the future. Just a warning."

Steve winced. And yeah, Sam was never going to let him live this down.

"I'll make it up to him," Steve muttered, rubbing his hand over his face. Then he dropped it and took Tony's hand in his and tugged him towards the door. "Come on, I saved you some dinner. And there is dessert afterwards."

"Dessert, huh?" Tony leered, waggling his eyebrows. Of course he did; come on, did you really think he wouldn't? "I'm already liking the sound of that."

"Tony..." And yep, the exasperated tone was back in Steve's voice. All was right in the world.

"Please tell me chocolate is involved because _that,_ that is all sorts of fun..."

Steve rolled his eyes and headed out the door, but not before Tony saw the little smile twitching at the corner of his mouth, just as Tony had intended. Tony waved his hand, indicating to JARVIS that everything should be shut down and followed Steve, intending to prove to his lovers just how much they meant to him for the rest of the night.

He may not deserve them, but he sure as hell was going to enjoy (love) them for as long as they let him. And maybe even beyond that.


	8. Birthday Tidings

**AN**: And since I suck at making updates here, you get two for one today.

In which Tony over shares and Rhodey is done. Written for Tony's b-day. Polyamory. Bucky/Steve/Tony/Pepper/Bruce/Natasha/Clint/Thor

* * *

**Birthday Tidings**

Rhodey stared at the empty chair in front of him wearily. He was hot, tired, bruised and gritty. The sand from the desert all but ground into his skin after his latest mission and he was impatient to finish this debrief so he could finally get some rest before Tony's birthday party that evening. A party he thought he would miss given that the entirety of the assignment had been one clusterfuck after another due to bad intelligence, and frankly he was just done.

The next time SHIELD came to him for help they were getting a big, fat, resounding NO. There was a reason that he hadn't become an Avenger, unlike his other adrenaline junky friends, when they asked - he wasn't up to this kind of crazy on a daily basis.

And speaking of crazy, Rhodey pulled his cell phone from his pocket and turned it on for the first time in weeks. Now that he wasn't on communications blackout, he needed to message the birthday boy even if it was a couple of days late. Tony was used to Rhodey going silent for months at a time, but Rhodey also knew that Tony had a bad habit of hacking into SHIELD's databases regularly and would have noted that Rhodey was back from Uzbekistan.

(Which had been far too close to where Tony had been held in Afghanistan for Tony's comfort. And Rhodey didn't want to stress his friend more than he already had by taking the mission.)

Powering the phone up, Rhodey quickly sent off a message detailing his itinerary, along with the appropriate birthday tidings, and then sat back to wait for the director. It had surprised him when Maria led him to the director's office instead of debriefing him herself, but apparently the director had a personal stake in this operation and didn't feel comfortable handing this debrief off to anyone other than himself.

Several minutes passed in relative silence (it was never completely quiet at a military or government outpost given the hive of activity surrounding them at all times, and if it were, he'd instantly be on high alert because something was seriously wrong) before his phone vibrated two times in quick succession, which led Rhodey to believe that Tony was either dictating to JARVIS, or using Extremis to answer him.

You never knew with Tony.

Unlocking his screen, Rhodey stared at the messages in mild surprise for a drawn out moment, wondering if he really were seeing them correctly.

_Thanks, honeybear! There are perks to polyamory. And birthday orgies are one of them._

_I've orgasmed so many times...I think I've become enlightened._

Sadly, the messages refused to change no matter how many times he blinked. And what did it say about him that this no longer fazed him?

Shaking his head, Rhodey groaned and slapped a hand over his face. This was exactly why he refused to text Tony on a regular basis. He never knew what he was going to get. Although, why he was surprised by this, he didn't know. Tony had been coyly hinting at it for months, so it shouldn't faze him in the least; but for some reason, he'd thought Tony had been having him on when he said that they were all 'happily living in a state of polyamorous bliss.'

When he'd said he couldn't handle the Avengers unique brand of crazy, he hadn't been kidding.

Rhodey quickly typed out, _My God Tony, I did NOT need to know that!_, and then set the phone down with a heavy sigh, but smiled nonetheless. If it made his friend happy, then who was he to judge? It wasn't his thing, but they were all consenting adults, so no harm, no foul. And if anyone could make it work, it would be that particular set of people.

The phone buzzed twice more and Rhodey eyed it with some trepidation, but picked it up because he knew that Tony would just keep texting him if he didn't.

He was persistent to say the least.

_Oh, come now, snickerdoodle. Don't be hating. _

_See where I went with that. Come…now. Ha! _

Rhodey rolled his eyes and messaged back.

_Really Tony? You really went there? I thought you turned 45 not 15._

Sometimes he wondered why he was even friends with this jackass. As fond as he was of Tony, he couldn't help marveling over how immature the man could be.

_You wound me honeybear._

_Besides, who else can I share this with that wasn't already there? _

_These are some serious bragging rights - a Fortune 500 CEO, a super soldier, his side kick, two spy assassins, a renowned scientist/rage monster and a fucking GOD. _

_All in my bed, right now._

Rhodey could feel the smug radiating from those words. As if Tony needed even more stroking of his already oversized ego. He couldn't help chastising, _Do you even know the meaning of discretion? _

The next message came immediately, and Rhodey could all but see Tony's smirk as they volleyed texts back and forth.

_Nah, I lost that along with my shame the first time we did that thing at MIT. I think I misplaced it in that one girl's bra…or something._

_You swore you'd never mention that again._

_I lied._

_I'm so done with conversation._

Rhodey set the phone aside, determined to ignore it. He knew better than to say that. He really did. It was akin to waving a red flag in front of a bull as far as Tony was concerned; a blatant challenge to the other man, prompting him to do his worst, but he needed to get his head in the game. And he was resolved to do just that before he set SHIELD's researchers onto the task of finding a way to throttle his best friend through the phone.

And he was right.

The phone chirped several times in quick succession, causing Rhodey to stare at it balefully and wonder if he could outlast Tony's brand of stubborn. And then snorted derisively to himself for the mere thought because _no one,_ not even Pepper, could outlast Tony's stubborn when he dug his heels in. Well, maybe Steve could; that man was far too stubborn for his own good. But certainly not the likes of Rhodey, and after the seventh message, he rolled his eyes and gave up.

He hated when he was right.

Picking up his phone, he massaged his temples and read.

_No, Rhodey. _

_Rhodey._

_Rhoooooooooooooodey._

_Rhodey._

_You know I'll just keep texting until you answer. _

_Seriously._

_I need to tell you something… _

_What?_ Rhodey sent, not caring if it sounded terse or not.

He did mention the hot, tired and gritty part did he not?

And Tony, for all his good traits, could drive the sanest man or woman to drink. He still recalled all too well how Tony had actively nettled him and Pepper ceaselessly in an effort to drive them away when he was dying from Palladium poisoning. And succeeded. Some bullshit about sparing them pain when he died. It still rankled, all these years later, that he had fallen for such an obvious ploy when he knew, he _knew,_ how little Tony regarded himself.

He was never going to forgive himself for not believing in his friend.

The phone drew him out of his darker thoughts, and Rhodey couldn't help but snort with reluctant laughter at the next string of texts.

_You have never had sex until you've fucked, and been fucked by, a God. _

_Seriously…his dick. He called it the "gentle giant." _

_He did not lie. _

_If anything, he grossly understated._

Not that it would do well to let Tony know that he was amused. Give the man an inch…

_Christ, Tony._

_Pretty sure when I woke up this morning we were still fucking. It just didn't stop. _

_You should stick around for the after-after party. ;) The more the merrier. And I hear the lovely Darcy and Jane will be in town, and might join in. _

Oh, hell fucking no. He did not need this kind of drama in his life.

_I'm turning my phone off now._

It was an empty threat, but Tony seemed to be done tormenting him for the moment with his far too active and overly complicated sex life. Well, except for one last dig, but it was Tony.

_That's cool. I need to go anyway._

_I feel like a sex bomb and I need to go explode on somebody. _

_And by somebody, I mean Captain America. _

_Just thought you'd like to know that I'm thoroughly debauching your idol. _

_Give Agent my best. Oh, sorry, I mean Director, now. How does that even work? Director Agent...oh, well Steve's stirring and wow, is he happy to see me. Ta!_

Rhodey's back stiffened at that last comment, instantly alerted to the fact that he was no longer alone in the room; a sentiment cemented when a dry voice commented.

"Tell Stark to get out of our systems or I'll reacquaint him with my taser and Super Nanny."

"Director Coulson," Rhodey greeted, already tripping over himself to make nice. "I'd apologize for Tony, but if I start now, I'd never stop."

"Not necessary," Coulson said, waving off his apology as he walked behind his desk and sat down. "I'm well aware that he can be a handful. Not to mention he's not the only Avenger that has the bad habit of over sharing."

Rhodey shared a commiserating smile with the other man, thankful once again that he had the sense not to get mixed up in the Avengers Initiative. With one final glare at his screen, Rhodey shuddered and turned it off, all too certain that Tony was on the other end of a camera he couldn't see, laughing at him.

On second thought, maybe he'd skip the party and just take Tony out for dinner. Rhodey wasn't sure if he had the resolve to put up with the Avengers unique brand of crazy tonight.

* * *

**Texts used/modified for this drabble:**

_And thanks! There are perks to polyamory. And birthday orgies are one of them. _

_I've orgasmed so many times...I think I've become enlightened._

_He called his dick the "gentle giant."_

_Pretty sure when I woke up the next morning we were still fucking. It just didn't stop._

_I feel like a sex bomb and I need to go explode on somebody._


	9. Stargazing

**Bland Marvel Headcanon:** Tony is terrified of the dark, but loves to watch the stars. To do this, he always has Steve or Bucky come with him because they make him feel safe. Tony/Steve/Bucky

**AN:** I always seem to forget to update here; so you get five new vignettes today.

**Trigger Warning: **Panic Attacks. Within the text I describe several physical sensations from the POV of the person having the panic attack. While I only skim the surface, (I didn't need to trigger myself), these are very real symptoms some people with anxiety experience (each experience is different), and thus, may be triggering to some individuals.

* * *

**Stargazing**

Tony stared up at the night sky, his hands fisted so that the knuckles blanched, and his lips compressed so tightly, he wouldn't be surprised that they had all but disappeared on his face. Closing his eyes, he drew in a shaky breath, deliberately ignoring the small tremor that ran through his body as complete darkness overtook him.

The dark had never been his friend.

Even as a child, (especially as a child), Tony felt as if the dark would swallow him whole. That it would smother him under its oppressive weight. Would leave him shaky, aching, and struggling for breath. The worst kind of monsters lurked in the dark. He knew that all too well; and not all of them were imaginary, nor did they wear strange faces. In fact, all too often, those monsters wore well-known, beloved, yet hated, faces and struck out from the shadows with heavy hands and malicious words, spat in an alcohol-drenched voice.

They pawed and clawed at him, filling his head with hate and the cold, black fear that he would never, ever be enough; that he...

Tony inhaled sharply and forced his eyes open, cutting off the virulent train of thought before it could trap him within its hold. The night sky swam before him, spinning halos around the diamond bright specks of light - distant suns and potential planets teeming with life - and a part of him couldn't help the pinprick of wonder that flooded inside him at the sight despite his short breath.

It was a conundrum, a catch-22. He'd always feared the dark. It had only gotten worse since the cave in Afghanistan, as well as the Chitauri attack with its wormhole and his near death out among stars he'd never seen before. But at the same time, those same stars fascinated him, drew him in like a moth to a flame, because there was just so much potential, so much that the human race, that _he_, had yet to discover.

It bugged him.

And like anything that bugged him, he couldn't help getting right into its face and telling it to fuck right off. Even if it was an abstract entity as opposed to a physical foe.

He'd faced down worse than this before and he certainly wasn't going to allow some...

"There you are."

A familiar voice cut through the dark, startling Tony into inhaling sharply. And just when he'd begun holding his breath, he wasn't sure, but it was a good thing someone had come upon him before he'd passed out. Despite that, Tony swung around, a little unsteady on his feet, and stared at the intruder with no little frustration. He should have known that his absence would be noted and remarked upon.

"I should have known you'd be out here," Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Or, well, _James_ as he liked to be called these days. Something about how Bucky was the boy from Brooklyn, but James was the man that had pieced himself back together out of the wreckage of Bucky and The Winter Soldier. And Tony got that. He really did. It was hard to hold onto outdated pieces of yourself, ones that no longer fit due to personal tragedy.

But he digressed.

Scowling, Tony turned his back on the other man and crossed his arms over his chest, steeling his spine, knowing that where one of his lovers were, the other wouldn't be too far behind. And he could do this. He didn't need them to hold his hand every damned time he wanted to look at the fucking stars. He was Iron Man. And that meant...

"Idiot."

Tony would have taken offense at that if it weren't for the fact that it was uttered with a good deal of affection as James came up behind him and wrapped his hands around his hips, anchoring him in a way that he couldn't explain. Even if it was also tinged with the exasperation that he'd gotten all too used to hearing in his lovers' voices.

"Breathe," James commanded, his fingers tightening on Tony's hips; and it was only then that Tony noticed just how uneven his breathing had grown. It was a fast and shallow thing that left his fingers, toes and face tingling, marking the beginnings of a panic attack.

And that was not good. Not good at all.

He drew in several long, counted-out breaths, fighting the rising panic threatening to well up and overwhelm, spilling its icy rivers into his blood. And it was a near thing, but the calm voice in his ear and the measured breaths soon pushed back the tide, and quieted the fluttering in his gut that screamed for him to '_run and run and run and never look back.'_

The anger at himself did the rest. He _hated_ feeling helpless.

"I can do this," he muttered through grit teeth, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. His breath whistled past his teeth as he tried to shake James off, but James wouldn't let up no matter how much he wriggled. "I can. I don't need..."

"Don't be stupid, Stark," James chided mildly, pulling him back into his chest.

Tony struggled for a few more minutes, but gave it up for lost once he realized he wouldn't being going anywhere, anytime soon. If there was anyone who was even more stubborn than he was, it would be James and Steve. He seriously did not know how they worked out given the fact that they were all stubborn assholes who liked getting their way.

But he had long since stopped questioning it.

Huffing under his breath, he relaxed, melting against James even as he muttered petulantly.

"I can."

"I know you can if necessary, sweetheart; you prove that every time we face the big bad at night. But you don't have to. Not now. So, let's go see us some stars."

James took his hand and tugged him further out onto the roof, and the vertigo slammed into Tony without warning. He squeezed his eyes shut and drew in a shallow breath, his stomach tightening as it hit him again. The dark was everywhere, deep and black given how far out away from the city that they were, clawing at him and dragging him under and he...

**STOP!**

The mental cry jarred Tony out of his cyclic thoughts enough to focus on the voice by his ear, talking in a gentle tone, and allowed him to focus on his breathing once more.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. Just focus on my voice and breathe."

James ran soothing hand up and down Tony's arms, but did not crowd him, having long learned that sometimes that proximity could make the panic worse. Tony nodded jerkily and matched his breathing to James', slowly unwinding enough to loosen his fingers from where they'd gripped James' shirt.

"That's it, baby; you're doing real good," James said, and Tony huffed at the hint of Brooklyn creeping into his voice. Few things unnerved James enough to allow it to color his voice, but watching a loved one hurt was one of those things. "There we are, sweetheart. You good?"

"Yeah," Tony swallowed and then shot him a shaky smile. "Yeah. I'm good."

"Good," James nodded and then sat down on the overstuffed futon that Tony had commissioned for just such occasions, and then tugged Tony down next to him, tucking him firmly into his side. "I'm right here."

Tony just rolled his eyes at James' fussing, but went with the flow because he was suddenly too tired to fight and leaning on someone felt good every once in awhile. Besides, it got him exactly what he'd wanted in the end, even if it meant admitting that he needed the help. James just smirked and draped an arm around him, and pressed his cheek to Tony's temple as he listened to Tony prattle on about the discovery of three new potential life-sustaining planets in the Cygnus constellation, nodding absently every so often.

He didn't know how long they'd been out there, but it'd been long enough for Tony to have moved on from the Cygnus discovery to the possibility that Mars had once supported life when he heard someone making their way across the roof. Tony paused and glanced up to find Steve smiling down at the both of them. A smile that faded when he took in Tony's face.

"There you two are. I was wondering where you two got off to."

"Just taking in some stars," James said with a smile, patting the other side of Tony in invitation.

Steve looked away from Tony, and arched a brow at James, which set off one of those conversations that old time lovers had, expressed in nothing but subtle shifts in their faces and a couple of hand gestures. Tony was still learning their code, but knew enough to realize that Steve had noticed his pale face and was asking James if there was a problem. James just smiled and shook his head, and shrugged it off with a hand wave.

Steve grunted and frowned, obviously not believing him at all, but he dropped it for the moment. However, Tony didn't fool himself into thinking that it had been dropped for good. He knew he'd be hearing about this later. But Steve seemed content to hold his tongue long enough for Tony's nerves to settle, and instead sunk onto the now pulled-out futon, snuggling up against Tony's other side with a sweet press of lips to his temple.

"Should have known; you never could resist a night like tonight."

"Well, they are one of the few things that rarely change," Tony murmured, tangling his fingers with the hand that Steve laid across his stomach.

And that, that was just right.

Steve hummed and laid back pressing closer into his right hand side, curling his fingers around Tony's. James returned it with an affirming grunt and then effortlessly curled around Tony's left side, effectively pinning him between the two of them - warm, content, snug, anchored, safe - as they quietly watched the stars silently slide across the sky.


	10. Bring the Boys Out

**Summary:** Darcy has always been a fan of K-pop, but not once did she think that it would lead her to the other half over her soul. Darcy/Bucky

**Author Notes:** This came about when one night I was chatting with one of my betas, Yasmania, and she mentioned that her personal headcanon is that Darcy is a fan of K-Pop. And when she was musing aloud which of the other Avengers would be fans, I piped up and said Bucky, because the thought of the Winter Soldier being a K-pop fan made me giggle. And thus, this was born. For Yasmania.

* * *

**Bring the Boys Out**

"Awkward," Darcy muttered under her breath, casting an uncomfortable glance at the kissing couple in front of her.

Not that Jane or Thor noticed.

They were far too busy trying to steal each others tonsils to even notice that she was in the room any longer. And yeah, it'd been a couple of months since they'd last seen each other; _and _Darcy and Jane _had_ just gotten into a spot of trouble that had been more worrying than usual, but geez. At least wait until people cleared out before you went at it like cats in heat.

"So, yeah. I'm just gonna...I'm just gonna go see a man about a thing, or something. You two have fun with that and, you know, be safe," Darcy said when it became clear that neither was going to come up for air anytime soon, and then turned tail and fled.

"Hey J man," Darcy muttered, addressing JARVIS as she entered the elevator, feeling only mildly envious when JARVIS responded immediately to her voice and anticipated her need by closing the doors. Tony had all the best toys. "Take me away."

"Is there anywhere in particular that you'd like to go to, Miss Lewis?"

"Darcy." she corrected absently, knowing it wouldn't do any good.

Darcy paused and thought on that.

Usually Tony was her go to whenever Thor and Jane got like this. Being a night owl like herself, they had spent many a late night bitching about the very loud, rambunctious symphony she was subjected to every time Thor and Jane reunited in their 'blissful union of love.' Or really, she bitched while Tony fed her candy, shots of the alcohol dujour and laughed at her pain.

But that was okay because she got her revenge when Tony's lovers were out of town, and he spent the entire night whining about it like the sap that he was. Few people knew that Tony was actually a big softie at heart. And that he was deeply in love with the two people with whom he shared his life. All they saw was the carefree, playboy attitude and dismissed him as lacking the ability to love at all, never mind that deeply.

Which was just plain stupid in Darcy's very undervalued opinion.

Anyone could see that while Tony didn't wear his heart on his sleeve, he was actually the most vulnerable out of the three of them.

However.

Steve had been on the very same week-long SHIELD mission that extracted Jane, and subsequently Darcy herself since Jane was the walking disaster Darcy had been reluctantly entrusted with, from a sticky situation that involved AIM, several large mutant squirrels and a kraken.

Don't ask. No seriously. Don't. Ask.

Even _she_ wasn't sure how this shit kept happening to her.

But she digressed.

So, Steve had been embroiled in a mission for over a week, rescuing herself and Jane from the deranged idiots that thought it'd be a good idea to kidnap Thor's sweetie. (Which no. Just don't. Seriously. That is just asking for trouble.) And Darcy was quite certain that Tony and Pepper were currently welcoming him home. Enthusiastically. And while that would be all kinds of sexy to watch, she didn't think Steve would be open to an audience.

Tony would. (Oh, would he ever. That man had an exibitionist streak a mile long.)

And Pepper might; because she was a kick ass, sassy HBIC under that prim exterior. (One who Darcy secretly worshipped as the Goddess that she so obviously was.) And Darcy could certainly see her taking it in stride. (And damn, wouldn't she love a piece of that. Seriously, the woman was hot, and if she thought it would lead anywhere, Darcy would have hit it like you wouldn't believe. But soulmates. She couldn't do that to Tony or Steve.)

Steve, on the other hand, tended to be shy. And while the blush was adorable, putting him in that awkward position would be like kicking a puppy.

"It doesn't matter to me, J," Darcy replied with a wave of her hand. "Just anywhere but here. If I have to witness any more of _that_..." Darcy gestured to where she assumed a still passionately embracing Thor and Jane were, "I just might vomit."

"As you wish, _Miss Darcy_," JARVIS said, setting the elevator car in motion. Darcy rolled her eyes at the honorific. Leave it to Tony to create an artificial intelligence as snarky as he. "Sir currently has the main lounge on lockdown…"

Darcy quirked a brow at that announcement. Didn't even make to the bed. Kinky.

And she couldn't help feeling a tad envious. She wished she had someone to greet her so enthusiastically.

"...will the small lounge do?"

"Sounds good, J baby; hit it," Darcy agreed as she shook herself out of her thoughts, and then fell into silence as the car continued ascending to one of the more private, and quieter, areas open only to the Avengers and their loved ones.

It wasn't that she was bitter that everyone around her had found their soulmates, while she continued to search for hers. (Envious, yes; but not bitter.)

It's just that, in this particular case, it's _Jane_. And watching that is akin to watching her sister, (if she had one), in the throes of a great love story - while tooth-rottingly sweet, it made her feel a touch nauseous no matter how hot Thor looked without a shirt. Plus, soulmates. It was considered bad taste to witness the reaffirming of a strained bond. That sort of thing was private.

Especially if one of the parties was unbonded; it was stupidly archaic, and usually, Darcy didn't stand on ceremony when it came to stupidly archaic rules just on principle, but, again, _Jane_. That is something she just does not want to see.

Humming to herself absently, Darcy exited the elevator and slipped into the small kitchenette to grab herself a soda and a few snacks, and then made her way into the main lounge area.

"Gimme some tunes, J," she called as she set her snack down.

"Anything in particular you wish to listen to, Miss Darcy? Or would you just like a small selection from your usual playlists?"

Darcy pursed her lips and hummed. She tended to listen to a little of everything, from country (she grew up in a small, Southern town, okay; you can't escape that stuff down there) to show tunes to rock to punk to...well, you get the picture. She has music from all over the globe, and in several languages, because she didn't discriminate when she wanted to get her groove on.

But right now, after the blatant reminder she was still unbonded, she needed a pick me up and some girl empowerment to remind herself that while being bonded would be nice, (and it would), she was kick ass in her own right and didn't need a man to make her happy.

"I think I'm in a K-pop kind of mood, J."

"Audio only? Or would you like video as well?"

"Pop up some video as well, J. That's the best part. Those girls always give me some serious shoe envy."

"As you wish," JARVIS said, lowering a screen from somewhere above her. "On that note, Ms. Potts has asked me to remind you of tomorrow's lunch and shoe excursion."

"God, I love that woman," Darcy replied happily, visions of Christian Louboutin's Pensamois - magenta, 120-millimeter dorcet, with crystal-encrusted flower at the ankle - dancing in her head. Pepper was one of the few people who shared her shoe addiction and they'd spent many an afternoon trying on and spending Tony's money on said addiction. (All with Tony's permission, of course, since he benefited greatly from feeding Pepper's shoe fetish.)

Natasha did as well, and often joined them when she was in town, but the spy tended to look at them as potential weapons first and a guilty pleasure second. And while Darcy understood that given Natasha's line of work, it kind of took the shine off the purchase.

Pepper, on the other hand, was a woman after her own heart; she simply enjoyed pretty things and liked owning them.

"Set me a reminder for an hour before will you, J?"

"As you will, Miss Darcy."

Darcy smiled as the artificial intelligence fell silent and her music filled the room. She bopped her head along with the music as she snacked on her cheese, crackers and fruit, but as always, the urge to get up and move to the infectious beat came over her. And yes, she does know all the moves to every Girls' Generation song, thank you. It's a thing, okay.

Jane often teases her about her obsession, but Darcy is completely unrepentant and feels no shame in knowing the routines. Besides, Jane has two left feet and couldn't keep a beat to save her life, and Darcy knew she was just jealous of Darcy's moves.

"_I can tell you're lookin' at me_," Darcy sang along with her favorite song, unconsciously falling into beat with the girls on the screen. "_I know what you see any closer and you'll feel the heat._"

Getting into it, Darcy closed her eyes and moved to the beat effortlessly, not paying much mind to her surroundings or her moves. She just let go and enjoyed the music, letting it wash away all thoughts of Thor and Jane and missing soulmates. And she was just really getting into the song when a voice asked out of the blue.

"So, were you upset when Jessica left the group?"

... ... ... ... ...

James sighed and sank wearily into the over-stuffed leather chair. (And could he just note that Stark had the best shit?) He was bone tired and aching, gritty and just done in after a week spent, first infiltrating AIM. (And the idiots never even realized the Winter Soldier was among them. Credit mostly due to Stark's ingenious work on his arm, which was covered with a synthetic material that looked and felt so much like real skin, even he would have been fooled if it hadn't been his own damned arm.)

Followed by a close to six-hour battle taking down said idiots, in order to rescue Thor's soulmate, Jane Foster, and her assistant Darcy Lewis. Although, it wasn't due to the AIM itself. As he said, idiots. (That couldn't be emphasized enough. Anyone that incited the wrath of a god by stealing their soulmate was an utter moron.)

It only took thirty minutes to take _them_ out.

No, what took the remaining five and a half hours were the ten-foot mutant squirrels, all fifteen of them, and the kraken, that one of the scientists had unleashed in an attempt at being helpful before he too was taken down. And just what the hell AIM planned to do with mutant squirrels and a kraken, he didn't want to know. He'd given up trying to make sense of the super villain mindset around the time that the White Rabbit unleashed her legion of genetically engineered, killer rabbits and razor carrots on Manhattan.

Who even looked at a bunny and thought to themselves, '_I will make you my evil minions and it will be great!_' Insert mad cackle here. He was just thankful that Spidey got stuck with that mess. Someone liked _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ just a wee bit too much.

Was it just him, or were villains losing their touch these days?

Shaking his head, James sunk deeper into the chair, a low groan of appreciation slipping past his lips as he closed his eyes. God, that felt good. He felt like his body was one giant bruise after being rammed into a wall by one of the kraken's tentacles. (And really, a kracken? What the fuck AIM?) And the way the soft, buttery leather molded to his body was a God send. He could get used to this. Stark had excellent taste in furnishings.

In everything really.

Look at him and Stevie for instance.

Stark certainly couldn't have done any better if he'd tried.

Not that Pepper was any slouch in that department either. He wasn't contesting that at all. She was quite the dame, who didn't put up with anyone's shit and was exactly the firm hand that Stark needed in his life. Add Stevie to that and the man had lucked out two-fold in the soulmate department.

It was just, _it was Stevie_, and Christ, James couldn't help feeling a bit envious.

Ignoring a twinge in his gut, James ran a weary hand over his face and sighed. He didn't begrudge Steve his newfound happiness. Not at all. Especially given how long it had taken him to even _find _his soulmates; that he even had a soulmate at all; let alone two was nothing short of a miracle.

Steve had been born without a name; a very rare occurrence that left him stigmatized. Not because it wasn't there. It was a common enough occurrence when you were the first born of a pair or triad, but usually a name appeared within the first five years of life. That it hadn't, and Steve had remained unmarked well into his twenties, left him feeling broken and undeserving of love no matter how many times James and his mam tried to tell him otherwise. Even thinking about the way Steve used to stare after mated pairs broke James' heart to this day.

He deserved this hard won happiness.

It was just, Christ, he missed the little punk something fierce.

For the longest time, it had been he and Stevie against the rest of the world. They'd stuck to each other like glue from the moment they'd met, when their mams ran into each other at the grocery store. And when their mams died, they were all each other had. He was the brother he'd never had and nothing had mattered to him so much as having Steve by his side. He knew that he could do anything if Steve believed in him. And the sure, calm steadiness that marked everything Steve did had been James' anchor, and now...

And now Steve didn't need him.

He'd become superfluous.

And God, did that ache.

James had known that back then, the first time he laid eyes on Steve after the serum, and saw that it had given him a new body, one better able to encompass the attitude he'd been born with, that Steve didn't need him to fight his battles any longer. That Steve could take care of himself. And then, when Steve giddily pointed out the names that adorned his body...well, something inside him nearly broke because Steve wasn't just his anymore. Add that to coming out of HYDRA's programming and seeing Steve shacked up with Tony and Pepper...

Well, it was a bitter pill to swallow.

Not that it was any of his business.

He had no say in it at all.

He knew that.

It was just...yeah, while he was perfectly aware that he'd eventually be replaced as Steve's sole support, James still couldn't help the flare of jealousy, burning bright and fierce in his gut, when he watched the three of them together. That had once been his place.

Exasperated with himself, James swiped at tired, gritty eyes and sighed again, shunting the thoughts aside. He needed to stop this. It was what it was and no amount of whining was going to change the fact that he was on the outside looking in once again.

At least until he found his own soulmate.

Absently covering the words on his right bicep, James wondered once again when their owner would to appear. (If they appeared; if he hadn't already met them and...) The words were the only thing keeping him even remotely sane in this bright, ultra-modern world where he felt useless. Despite the fact that they weren't the ones he'd been born with.

His first words had appeared when he'd been just months old according to his mam, and had wrapped around his left wrist. They had been written in a neat, feminine hand that proclaimed '_well, at least you got the tall, dark and handsome right; but don't think that your playboy charm will work on me, buster._'

Steve had laughed himself silly when he'd seen James' mark, delighted that his future soulmate would see through his act, and told him, whoever she was, she was a keeper based on that alone. James just rolled his eyes and amped up his act knowing that at some point the owner of his words would call him on his bullshit and no one would have been happier than he.

Those words were lost to him when he'd lost his arm; he didn't even know if the person was dead or alive at this point.

His second set of words, written in a bold, loopy hand, (in _purple_ ink for Christ's sake), appeared twenty-four years ago according to his official file. HYDRA had tried to burn them from his skin on multiple occasions, (apparently he'd gotten too curious about the mark), but the serum they'd pumped into his veins healed the skin and the mark reappeared the following day as if nothing had happened. After the dozenth attempt, they'd finally given up for lost rather than take far more drastic removal measures.

Apparently wiping his mind repeatedly was enough for the bastards.

Dropping his hand, James opened his eyes and then startled when he heard someone moving around in the kitchenette. Turning his head slowly, he watched the door warily. He hadn't even heard the elevator door open, and that wasn't like him. Usually he was hyper vigilant about his surroundings at all times. It was the only thing that had kept him alive for many years.

Tensing as footsteps shuffled on the tile, James held his breath and then released it in a shallow rush when Darcy popped out, humming under her breath. The tension coiling under his skin released slowly as she came into the room, completely unaware of his presence, and James couldn't help studying her curiously.

Although he'd seen her on this last mission, between his needing to focus on taking down AIM and her trying to talk down a far-too-curious-for- her-own-good Jane, he hadn't actually had the chance to talk to Darcy. Then, the two of them always seemed to just miss the other while they were cleaning up and he hadn't seen hide nor hair of her since returning; and James couldn't help wondering about the other girl after seeing her hold her own against AIM.

And this without super powers.

"Gimme some tunes, J," Darcy called as she entered the room and set her snack down on a low table. James drew further into the shadows and remained quiet.

"Anything in particular you wish to listen to, Miss Darcy? Or would you just like a small selection from your usual playlists?"

Darcy scrunched up her nose and tilted her head to the side thoughtfully, her lips pursing as if considering her options, and then nodded to herself as if coming to some internal decision.

"I think I'm in a K-pop kind of mood, J."

James grinned. Few people knew it, but once he'd been released to the Avengers on probation, (_and_ after SHIELD mucked about and poked around in his head to make certain there was no lingering HYDRA programming), he'd thrown himself into learning everything he could about the years he'd missed much to Steve's combined amusement and annoyance. Unlike Steve, who'd taken his lessons as a grudging necessity, James had fully embraced this bright, bold world, loving the diversity in...well, everything from music to food to...well, everything.

K-pop was one of those things he'd secretly embraced. Introduced to him by Clint, of all people, James found the music fun and infectious even if he didn't understand it all the time, despite his rudimentary understanding of the language due to things best left unsaid. When Clint pulled up a couple of songs by some group called Girls' Generation during one of their sparring sessions, James had made a mental note and went exploring.

The rest was, as they said, history.

"As you wish," JARVIS said, lowering a screen from somewhere above. And James still couldn't get over the technology of this time. "On that note, Ms. Potts has asked me to remind you of tomorrow's lunch and shoe excursion."

"God, I love that woman," Darcy replied happily, nearly clapping her hands in glee. James was tempted to comment on how women never changed no matter the year, but he didn't want to make his presence known just yet.

Not to mention that he'd heard that this slip of a girl had taken down Thor with nothing more than a taser, and while he was fascinated by that, he also had a great deal of respect for a strong woman that could take care of herself. To lessen that with a sexist comment, no matter how joking, would do neither of them justice.

"Set me a reminder for an hour before will you, J?"

"As you will, Miss Darcy."

The music poured through the speakers, and James' grin broadened when the brunette closed her eyes and began to bop her head along to the music, mouthing the words as she shimmied to the beat. A few songs played while she ate her snack in relative silence until a familiar song started playing, one he recognized as one of the two Clint had played, The Boys by Girls Generation. And then Darcy let out an excited little squeal and jumped to her feet.

James had to stifle a laugh as Darcy began to move along with the girls in the video, her moves fluid and sensuous and damned if she didn't do it even better than the professionals. James licked his lips and dragged his eyes over the pretty brunette, something warm coiling low in his belly as he watched her. (And damn, he hadn't felt that in a long time.)

"_You don't have to pretend that you didn't notice me. Every look will make it hard to breathe. B-bring the boys out_," Darcy sang under breath and James couldn't help agreeing.

And then he began to feel guilty, because it was obvious that the girl thought she was alone and here he was peeping on her like some kind of creeper. Squirming internally, James cleared his throat pointedly and asked, "So, were you upset when Jessica left the group?"

Darcy let out a screech, pitched high enough that James winced in sympathy for dogs everywhere, and then smiled sheepishly when the girl whirled around, ready to pour on the charm, and then hastily ducked, narrowly missing being smacked in the face by the remote the brunette launched at his head.

Okay, so maybe that hadn't been his best move.

Really, what had he been thinking? He'd heard enough tales out of school about the brunette's trigger happy reactions with her taser. He should have seen that coming. Raising his head, James grinned to find an out of breath, flushed Darcy standing over him with her hands planted firmly on her hips and a murderous frown on her face.

James knew he should probably feel some sort of contrition for scaring her, but well, he wouldn't be him if he didn't tease the girl a bit.

"Sorry about that, doll. Couldn't resist. Although, I think you got that one move, the little shimmy thing, wrong; I could show you if you'd like?"

Darcy stilled, her eyes widening a touch before they narrowed and she looked him over contemplatively. Then her lips curved into a saucy little smirk as she winked.

"You can show me any move you want, soldier."

And then it was James turn to still, his eyes widening in wonder as his words spilled from her lips, and bugged further when she lifted the corner of her shirt to reveal her words, written in his familiar chicken scratch just above her right hip. James stared at them for a long moment, completely dumbfounded, and then looked back at the smug slip of girl before him and threw his head back with a disbelieving laugh. Once he stopped, he grinned and tipped an imaginary hat.

"I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship," he smirked.

"If you think I'm settling for friendship," Darcy snorted, an amused twinkle in her eyes. "You obviously don't know me at all, sweetheart."

Oh yes, James did love this century.


	11. reach for the Stars and Stripes

**Summary:** The one where Darcy plays matchmaker, Steve gets a new suit, Pepper is a woman on a mission and Tony is one lucky bastard. Steve/Tony/Pepper; Darcy/Natasha; Clint/Maria Hill.

* * *

**Reach for the Stars and Stripes**

Tony leaned back in his chair, sunglasses perched on his nose, and took a long drag of his drink - some cold, fruity thing that Darcy had said '_was to die for.'_ Tony had looked at her skeptically, but he had to admit, even if it were just to himself, that she wasn't wrong. It helped that it wasn't cloyingly sweet like far too many fruity drinks were wont to be. And yeah, it was a perfect accompaniment to his surroundings, so points to her.

Opening his eyes, he glanced at her over the tops of his glasses, and raised his glass to her. Darcy beamed and then set about mixing the next batch of drinks, while Tony exhaled heavily and for once just relaxed. He couldn't quite recall the last time he had the time to unwind since the inception of the Avengers, but it had felt like years rather than the months it likely was; and he needed this. They _all_ needed this.

Even if it meant leaving the Fantastic Four on call for the weekend.

(Fucking Richards and his portals. He was as likely to be the cause of any said disturbances as to be the solution. Thankfully, Tony also alerted Xavier of their absence much to Steve's annoyance. But Tony didn't trust Stretchy not to irrevocably fuck things up in the Avengers' absence and stands by his decision.)

They deserved this downtime and since the Malibu mansion had finally been rebuilt, it was the perfect opportunity for a weekend getaway to christen the place. Hence pool/beach/house warming party. It worked and was still close enough that the good Captain didn't make too much of a fuss leaving the heroics to others.

Tony took another sip of his drink and smiled softly when slim fingers slipped into his own and squeezed. Turning his head, he leaned over to kiss Pepper, but halted when the fingers tightened, clenching around him as she stared off to the side in disbelieving awe. Tony followed her line of sight and stilled, his mouth dropping open.

"God bless America," he breathed, the words nearly getting caught in his throat.

"Amen," Pepper agreed fervently, and then gave a low whistle.

"Jesus fuck," Tony choked, staring at Steve like he'd never seen him before, and with good reason. "What is he even wearing?"

To say that the sight was appealing would be the understatement of the century. Steve strode out of the house, all patriotic confidence and manliness in the tiniest pair of star-spangled shorts Tony had ever seen on the man. And were actually much more tasteful than one would expect considering they were modeled after the flag.

A bright crimson, the shorts barely covered, (and clung lovingly to), Steve's ass, ending just past the juncture of his thighs, so they weren't quite a speedo, but weren't quite a short either. Really, the word boy-short came to mind as they couldn't have been longer than the frilly things Pepper liked to wear. And damned if it didn't do things for him.

The flag part came in the form of a swatch of cloth starting about mid waist, streaking down diagonally to the left-leg seam in white, followed by a band of red, and then another of white, red again and then white, and finally the top left corner was a deep blue with white stars. They were awe inspiring and he didn't blame Pepper one bit for staring.

Steve filled them out well.

"Careful there Stark." Clint snorted as he nonchalantly tossed back the remainder of his drink. But Tony wasn't fooled. "You're starting to drool."

"Shove it, Katniss," Tony said with a snarky grin. "My tongue wasn't the only one hanging out when he walked by."

"Yeah," Clint conceded, nodding towards where Steve was just lowering himself into the pool for laps, because apparently the man didn't know the meaning of relaxation. "Well, Steve could turn the straightest man gay. And for those of us who travel a windy road..."

Tony snorted and shared a knowing look with Clint. Yeah, he totally got what he meant. Tony may fall on the lower end of the Kinsey scale, preferring women to men by far, but he did make the rare exception. And boy did Steve ever fall high on that list of exceptions.

"Where did he even..."

Tony trailed off, the words drying on his tongue as Steve pulled himself out of the pool, water running down over his skin in rivulets. Swallowing harshly, he picked up his drink to wet his suddenly parched throat and waved a hand in Steve's direction, hoping that his question was clear despite being unable to articulate it.

"Darcy," Natasha said in her clipped, no-nonsense way, taking pity on Tony. She quirked her lips wryly as she shaded her eyes. "She thought he needed something with a little...pizzazz."

"I knew I loved that girl for a reason," Tony said fervently, discreetly wiping at his mouth as Steve stretched. (And _fuck_, was he doing that on purpose?) But based on Pepper's amused grin, he hadn't been discreet enough. "Remind me to thank her later. I'll build her a new MP3 player; bling it out for her. One of a kind."

"She'd probably have your babies if you did that." Pepper hummed, her eyes turning back to Steve.

She tilted her head and studied him thoughtfully, as if pieces of an intricate puzzle were falling together right before her eyes, and then she tapped her finger to her lips and smiled enigmatically. And God, did Tony love that smile. That smile usually meant good things for Tony. _Very_ good things indeed.

"Yeah, because me as a dad wouldn't be the biggest disaster ever," Tony snorted. He licked his lips as his eyes followed Steve to the bar, where he sat in front of Darcy, apparently asking for a drink based on the way Darcy lit up. "Is it bad that I kinda want to go over there and rub myself all up against that just to see if the blush does indeed go all the way down."

"Not without me," Pepper murmured as she casually slid on her sunglasses.

Tony huffed a laugh, quickly changing it to a cough as Pepper shot him the 'Look.' But please, he knew exactly why she was wearing them; it was for the same exact the same reason Tony was wearing them - it was so much easier to study your prey without them noticing.

"Well, duh. I figured that was implied."

Because it was. No way would he ever think of doing anything of the like without Pepper's permission and full participation. She came first. _Always. _And if she wasn't on board, he was perfectly happy to admire from afar. And indulge in a fantasy or two.

"Someone really needs to debauch that man," Maria drawled as she came up from behind the lounges, startling him. And what was it with spies and their super stealthy sneakiness?

Maria merely smirked when Tony shot her a disgruntled look and then made herself at home in Clint's lap, and _hello_, why hadn't he been privy to that little development? When had that happened? Clint just grinned and wrapped an arm around her waist, squeezing gently as he saluted Tony and then took another pull off of his beer. Well, okay then.

"Dibs!" Tony said, his hand shooting up, making the others roll their eyes with fond exasperation. But fuck them. He was staking his claim now. If they wanted a shot, they'd have to wait behind Tony and Pepper. "So dibs! All the dibs!"

"Later," Pepper said, swirling her drink in her hand.

"Really?" Tony grinned, delighted and not a little surprised. Pepper nodded once, making his grin broaden into a full out leer as he raised their entwined hands to his mouth and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "Have I mentioned how much I love you today?"

Pepper smiled at him indulgently and blew him a tiny kiss in return before turning her gaze back to Steve. Tony frowned a bit, his lips pursing as he watched Steve talking animatedly with Darcy and Natasha, the latter of whom was leaning into the shorter brunette, her lips pressed to the top of Darcy's head as she tried not to laugh.

(And seriously, that was a pairing that completely terrified him. What Pepper had been thinking when she introduced the two of them, Tony couldn't imagine; but it was likely to end in blood and tears for the rest of them.)

"Do you really think that he'd…" Tony trailed off.

"Just watch the master at work," Pepper smirked. She dropped his hand, leaned over to press a gentle kiss to his lips and then stood, reaching for her now empty glass. Shooting him a saucy smile, she sashayed her way over to the bar and dropped her glass in front of Darcy for a refill before turning to Steve with that same enigmatic, promising grin from earlier. And if that smile made Tony's insides twist, there was no way in hell that Steve would stand up to it.

And true to form, Steve was a goner within seconds, squirming delightfully as Pepper rested a hand on his arm and leaned in, speaking to him in a low voice. About what, Tony had no idea, but it had to be good judging by the pink tinting Steve's cheeks. They continued talking for a few minutes, and then Steve nodded, a shy smile stretching across his face. Pepper responded with an even brighter version of '_enigmatic grin #1_', leaving Steve in a daze as she turned her head, lowered her glasses and winked at Tony.

"My God, I love that woman," Tony breathed, watching her reverently as she sashayed back toward him. "I am the luckiest bastard on the face of the Earth."

... ... ... ... …

Steve yawned, scratching at his stomach as he shambled into the kitchen the following morning, still half asleep. He shuffled over to the coffee maker and poured himself a cup, humming in pleasure as he drank half of it down in one large gulp. Caffeine didn't affect him in the least, but he liked the warmth of it and the sharp, bitter taste perked him up in ways that even a cold shower didn't.

Refilling his cup, Steve set it aside and began pulling out the ingredients for stuffed banana, caramel, pecan French toast - a personal request that he didn't mind fulfilling this morning despite how long it'd take him. He was, after all, feeling generous after a wonderful night. He puttered around the kitchen humming under his breath as he mixed ingredients, heated pans, and had just began slicing when shuffling footsteps and a low murmur of voices caught his ear.

Turning back to one of the cupboards, Steve opened it and pulled out two brightly-colored mugs, and filled them both with coffee. That done he put the carafe down and dumped an obscene amount of sugar, plus a dollop of cream, into the first and a single spoonful of sugar into the second. Spinning on his heel, he offered up both cups just as Natasha and Darcy slipped through the kitchen door.

Natasha nodded a greeting as Darcy threw herself into a chair with a low groan, but rather than reach for the extended mugs, Natasha arched a brow and gave him a long, silent once over. When her eyes finally came back up to meet his once more, she gave him a cat-like grin and swiftly struck out, catching his chin in a light, but firm hold. Turning his head gently to the side, Natasha let out a low whistle at the impressive mark Tony'd had far too much fun putting there.

Some possessive need to to let the world know that Steve Rogers was permanently off the market, or so Pepper had muttered when she saw it this morning, eyes bright with amusement.

Steve flushed, a low grunt of irritation sounding in the back of his throat as he shook her hand off, and eyed her challengingly, almost daring her to comment. But Natasha, all too aware of what that look meant just held up her hands placating gesture and grabbed the mugs Steve thrust in her direction, and walked away, sliding the less sugared coffee in front of Darcy.

And speaking of, Steve glanced over to the brunette, and sighed internally when he found her grinning at him like a fool as expected.

'_You owe me_,' Darcy mouthed, far too gleeful for someone who'd just woken up and hadn't had her daily ration of coffee yet. Steve rolled his eyes, but managed a tiny rueful grin as he continued making breakfast, all too aware of the heat in his cheeks and every new mark on his body that spilled the beans better than anything he could ever say.

Cooking silently, he let the sounds of Natasha's and Darcy's conversation wash over deaf ears, (he really didn't need to hear their private conversation), and only glanced over with a smile when the redhead pressed her lips against the brunette's temple with a softness that she rarely showed to the world.

Putting the finishing touches to his French toast, Steve walked over and pressed a kiss to the top of his friend's head as he slid the coveted dish in front of her, murmuring over her happy squeal. "A price I will gladly pay."

... ... ... ... ...

**_The previous day:_**

_Steve warily stared at the bags that Darcy had deposited in front of him with a huge grin, somehow knowing without even looking at what was in them that he was going to hate it. Absolutely hate it. There was just some knowing glint in those mischievous, blue eyes that told him he was going to regret letting her go shopping for him._

_Taking a deep breath, he stuck his hand in the bag and pulled out several items of clothing, all in blues, greens and neutral shades - t-shirts and shorts, jeans and hoodies, sweats and and a couple of button downs - and most of them solids with the occasional tasteful print, which surprised him. And it made him suspicious because he knew Darcy. He knew that look in her eye and there was no way this was it._

_With that in mind, Steve continued, still eyeing the brunette suspiciously, a feeling that ratcheted up a notch when Natasha slipped through the door with a knowing look. _

_And then his hand hit something silky. _

_Steve cringed but, pulled the offending item out of the bag nonetheless. And then he just stared for a long moment, not quite believing his eyes. Because there, right in front of him, was a pair of the most scandalously tiny swim trunks he'd ever laid eyes on, done up in obnoxious red, white and blue and patterned like an abstract American flag._

_"Darcy!" Steve exclaimed, balling the tiny, (the **very** tiny), piece of material in his hands, his cheeks growing hot as he even imagined putting them on. "Why on Earth would you think..."_

_"Tony," Darcy said in a very succinct, no-nonsense tone that said she would brook no further argument from Steve._

_He squirmed beneath her direct gaze, all too aware of that she was privy to his crush on the man in question, as well as the one on his lady love. All because of a night he'd rather forget. He'd only agreed to it because he thought that there was no way Darcy and Natasha could get him drunk. He should have known that she and Natasha would play dirty and call Thor up for some of his infamous mead which took Steve down without much effort._

_"Well, and Pepper," Darcy conceded with a shrug, "but mostly Tony."_

_Steve turned back to swimsuit, his face on fire even as he studied it with renewed interest._

_"You think he'd like these?"_

_"Honey, if the man doesn't jump you the instant he sees you in those, it's only because Pepper is holding his leash and has a plan in place." Darcy snorted as she stood, casually smoothing out the sundress she was wearing. "Trust me, Cap, if you don't come to breakfast covered in hickeys, I'll...I'll do whatever you want."_

_"Dangerous words, soldier," Steve said, arching a brow, but it was enough of a reassurance that he too climbed off the bed taking the swim suit with him._

_"I'm confident, baby," Darcy said as she headed for the door, and the party already in progress, tossing a smirk over her shoulder. "You are going to blow their minds."_

_Steve returned the smirk with one of his own and slid into the bathroom to change. He had nothing to lose and everything to gain with the venture. And even if this was a spectacular flop, as he was convinced it would be, he could always make Darcy pay, and pay dearly._


	12. The Cellist

**Summary:** Coulson's cellist comment explained. Phil/Clint

**AN:** This is an orphan scene that I wrote for a story idea that I just haven't had the time to work on at this time because it's shaping up to be of epic length. However, I do hope to get to it one day; so, you might see this scene again, only from Tony's POV since it's a Pepper/Tony/Steve pairing.

* * *

**The Cellist**

Clint internally rolled his eyes for the fifth time in as many minutes since Tony had walked into the common room and silently taken the chair opposite him. The fact that the man had been able to remain silent for this long unnerved Clint, but he continued to clean and check his weapons without a hitch, having long been trained out of reacting by Natasha.

It had become a bit of a stalemate between them, each of them waiting for the other to break the silence first. And Clint was winning; for as stubborn as Tony could be, he didn't have the patience that numerous stakeouts had bred into Clint.

He'd known this was coming.

He'd known that the other man's curiosity would eventually get the best of him, and that eventually even the power of Steve's disapproving look would fade. (Actually, Clint was surprised that the warning to leave well enough alone had lasted this long.) While Steve might rein in some of Tony's brasher quirks, he by no means controlled the man. And once Tony had gotten a bee in his bonnet, there was no stopping the him.

Clint had appreciated Steve's concern. He really did. It wasn't necessary, but he appreciated Steve reining Tony in at first. He wasn't nearly as bad off as the other's might have thought, but some respite was nice as it still had been somewhat of a shock. He'd always known that Fury was a lying bastard that lied. It didn't really surprise him that the asshole had done this.

Tony shifted in his chair, grabbing Clint's attention once more. He glanced up and quirked a brow, almost daring Tony to speak first. But the stubborn bastard remained quiet, studying him thoughtfully. That was fine. Clint had plenty to do and played this game better.

Looking away, Clint continued his slow, methodical inspection of his bow and arrows, drawing it out for as long as possible just to irk the other 's impatience was renowned; it'd win out in the end. And Clint had nothing to hide.

He knew that the team, outside Natasha who always knew everything, was slightly miffed that Clint hadn't said anything, but it wasn't like he was keeping it a secret. Plenty of people had been privy to Clint and Phil's relationship. They'd just kept it under wraps because they'd both made a lot of enemies in their jobs and neither wanted to paint a target on the other's back.

He'd planned to come out to the team eventually. You know, once he'd figured out how all the cogs worked individually and as a whole. An agent didn't give up personal information like that until they were certain it wouldn't come back to bite them on the ass.

In his line of work, discretion was sound.

It would have happened. Probably.

What he hadn't counted on was the King of Dicks doing it for him.

Now, to be fair to Fury, he had been presumed dead for a long time, and off chasing HYDRA's ghost, so he probably hadn't given much thought the tangled web of lies he'd spun and left behind. And in Clint's defense, he'd thought the asshole had come clean long before this moment, but no, in a classic Fury-level of destruction, he dropped his little bomb and left the rest of them to clean up after him.

Clint hadn't expected that the meeting he'd been called into a week ago would amount to, 'oh by the way, for those of you not in the know, Coulson only died for a brief time and was resurrected with alien technology. Sorry, not sorry. And Hawkeye, I'm returning your lover to you. Good job on keeping things under wraps.'

It had been a fucking nightmare.

With the uproar that he caused, Clint was surprised Fury made it out of the building, let alone the room in one piece. But in the midst of an explosion that would have done Nitro proud, the asshole left, leaving Phil and Clint to pick up the pieces. Between Tony, Thor, and Bruce voicing their ire, he was surprised there was even a Helicarrier left. Steve had just given them all his 'Captain America Disapproves of This Glare of Doom.' Which had even the strongest of agents, now director, quaking in fear.

But what did you expect from His Dickishness?

Clint had learned long ago that Fury was a law unto himself, and who the fuck cared what anyone else thought of it.

Sighing mentally, Clint set aside his bow and picked up his quiver in order to begin a thorough inspection of it and its remaining arrows. He really needed to talk to Tony about getting more. You know, once they were done playing this not speaking to each other game.

Which looked like it was at its end as Tony shifted again.

"I thought Agent said there was a cellist...?" Tony piped up, breaking the silence.

Clint grinned internally; he knew he'd win. Tony is nothing if not predictable, and he tended to get a bit twitchy when things are too quiet for too long.

"A cellist..." Clint mused aloud.

He fought the urge to roll his eyes. A cellist? Really, Phil? He'd thought his lover would have grown bored with that story and crafted something a bit more believable by now.

"That's what he said." Tony nodded, one brow arched in inquiry.

"Christ." Clint shook his head. "Is he _still_ using that tired cover story? Unbelievable."

Although, why he was surprised, he didn't know. It fit with Phil's warped sense of humor.

"Yup, cellist in Portland. Or so he mentioned before…" Tony paused and looked away, his eyes suspiciously bright.

And that killed Clint just a little because he'd had no idea just how much Tony had grieved Phil's death until long after the fact. Tony had always been one to keep his emotions carefully masked, and if anyone had asked Clint before one week ago today, he would have said Tony tolerated Phil at best and openly disdained him at worst.

But that was Tony for you. Hard to read even on the best of days.

"Well, before," Tony finished quietly.

And really, that said everything.

"Right," Clint sighed.

He pulled out one of his arrows to give himself something to do with his hands. This wasn't exactly what he'd expected to be questioned on. He figured Tony would lead with 'why did you lie to us for so long? Don't you trust us?' But again, Tony. He never did what you expected.

"Well, that would be me."

"Cellist...so, the whole working with a bow thing?" Tony mimed pulling back a bowstring and letting it fly.

"No," Clint said, and then grinned knowingly when Tony cocked his head curiously. "No, that's not - why is it people always make that assumption when they hear - but no, he meant an actual cellist."

"You? A cellist?" Tony stared at him skeptically, and Clint did not blame him one bit for that. He'd been skeptical too when the assignment had come up. "Color me surprised." Then Tony paused and watched Clint with narrowed eyes. "There's a story there."

"It was for a mission," Clint said, flashing him a smirk. "Classified, of course."

"Of course..." Tony rolled his eyes, a small smile on his lips.

And Clint knew exactly what that smile meant. By the end of the day, Tony will have worked his computer magic, with the help of JARVIS of course, and learned all the dirty details anyway; so he decided to give a dog a bone, and give him something to chew on in the meantime.

"What can I say? A cellist got into a spot of trouble, nasty stuff I can't get into, and needed help."

And _that_, that was like waving a red flag in Tony's face, saying '_please, find me_,' but whatever. Fury was the King of Dicks and deserved Tony messing with his so-called new, improved and supposedly Tony-proof systems. Tony-proof. Right. As if such a thing existed. Like Clint said, he'd give Tony until the end of the day, if that, to have that system cracked wide open.

"So, I posed as a student to mask the fact that I was the cellist's protection and point of contact when they needed to pass on information."

"Ah." Tony nodded, drumming his fingers against his chest, right where the arc reactor once rested. "Were you any good?"

"God, no," Clint snorted, setting aside the arrow and pulling another out of its quiver. "With my hearing issues? I am completely tone deaf. I don't even know _why _they sent _me_, of all people, when there were others that would have filled the role better; but when I asked, Phil just muttered something about 'needing my unique abilities.'"

And Clint still called bullshit on that. Seriously. He was a sharpshooter. A sniper. He worked with a bow and arrow for Christ's sake. There was nothing in his specialized skill set that said potential cellist. And from Tony's snort, he was certain the other man agreed with that sentiment.

"Personally, I think he just wanted to keep me where he could easily watch me. But no, I was awful. Cringe worthy even. I think that's why it amuses Phil to say that; knowing that I was the worst cellist he's ever had the...well I can't say pleasure...privilege? Nah, I wouldn't even call it that. Anyway, knowing I was the worst cellist he's ever heard."

"That is…" Tony paused to consider. "I don't know what that is, but it is unexpectedly funny. Not what I'd expect from Director Agent."

"Yeah," Clint agreed, his voice dry as the Sahara as he finally set aside his quiver. "Phil's a real riot when he wants to be. Now, about those arrows we were talking about last week. I had a few ideas about a taser version in honor of Phil's 'resurrection.'

"Now, you're speaking my language," Tony grinned pulling up a hologram. "Talk to me, baby."


	13. Soldier Boy

**AN:** This vignette stemmed from Bucky's need to tell Steve's story.

As I was writing Bring the Boys Out for my beta, Yasmania, he kept yammering about Steve and his lack of a soulmate. Every time I tried to rein him in, he stubbornly refused to get on with the fic and went back to Steve. So, I took it all down, and then cut the vast majority of it because it had nothing to do with the current vignette and him finding his soulmate.

So, since I had most of Steve's back story written for me though Bucky's eyes, I naturally decided to write another vignette telling Steve's story from his own POV.

Stubborn characters always give me a headache.

Set in the same universe as _Bring the Boys Out_.

* * *

**Soldier Boy**

Steve's body had been a blank slate when he was born.

In a world where the first words spoken by your perfect match, (or in some cases matches), your _soul mate_, was written on your skin, it was an anomaly. Something that was feared by overly suspicious people that viewed it as proof that someone had been born without a soul.

It was also something that had broken his poor mama's heart, because she, a nurse, had known the fate of those without a soul link to bind them to this plane of existence. They were sickly children that lived hard, unhappy lives and died young. And knowing that her son faced such a fate, after nearly giving up on ever having a child, it had nearly broken her. And she'd praised and thanked her God, rejoiced every day that Steve was with her, fighting the odds again and again.

That Steve had held on and survived to adulthood had been nothing short of a miracle. It had come close on occasion. Especially that battle with scarlet fever. His mama had been certain that she'd lost him then, but he had always been the hard-headed sort and he rebounded once again. And then there was the rheumatic fever, the asthma, the high blood pressure, the heart palpitations, and contact with tuberculosis, among other things.

And, well, even he had doubts of his survival.

It's what often led him into rash behavior; if your chances for survival seemed dim at best, what's to stop you from living each day as if it were the last, except for yourself? And Steve had never been one to back down from a fight. Rather, he'd lived each day to the fullest and squeezed out every drop of life that he could before he met that inevitable end.

It's also what led him to being the perfect candidate for Project Rebirth.

But he was getting ahead of himself.

No one could ever explain why the phenomenon happened. Why a soul was separated by time and space from his or her mate. Or just why one would be born apart from his or her promised. There were legends of course; stories told about how a particular soul was needed in times of great strife and were rewarded for that somehow in the end. But there was never any _proof;_ only myth and suspicion, given no one even knew how soul marks worked.

And it was cold comfort to someone who had to look on as others met that one person that was supposed to be their everything, all the while knowing it'd never happen for them.

It was heartbreaking.

Not having a soul bond made life difficult; it set him apart from others, and often made him a target for bullies. Men, and women, who liked to tease and torment him, and others like him. Very few people looked beyond the surface, preferring to believe that something was wrong with him. That he was being punished for some past transgression by being separated from his other half.

All except for his mama and Bucky. His mama for obvious reasons; as her miracle child, she'd loved him fiercely since the day he'd been born. And Bucky, having a cousin who met a similar fate, never cared. He loved Steve fiercely, and promised that he'd be with him to the end of the line, something that Steve soaked up, loving him with equal fervor.

As time progressed, Steve grew used to the idea of never having someone in his life. He accepted it, even if Bucky didn't, constantly setting him up with dames that either weren't interested in finding their soulmate yet or had lost them. He grudgingly went on those dates just to escape Bucky's puppy eyes, but was more than glad that they never panned out.

What was the point in growing close to someone you'd never have a true bond with?

And then it happened.

As if by fate, (and some would argue that it was), Steve went to the Stark Exposition and met Dr. Erskine. A meeting that had irrevocably changed the course of his life.

Because on the day that Erskine administered the serum, the day of his 'rebirth,' Steve had gotten two soul marks - one that simply read, _'Captain,'_ in a tight, spiky, barely legible scrawl and another that said, _'At ease, Soldier Boy,'_ in a looping, feminine hand. Neither of which were very helpful given the fact that he was addressed that way many times over.

But they were there, and they gave him hope. Especially as he'd brought them with him into this very confusing, yet fascinating future.

Which led him to today.

Steve had woken up, a weird knot in his stomach, and knew instantly that something significant was going to happen, but he hadn't a clue if it were negative or positive. Just that something was going to happen and it'd had him on edge all morning.

Given he and the rest of the team were supposed to be moving into the newly christened Avengers Tower today, that really wasn't a good thing. He could think of a hundred different ways this could go spectacularly wrong. Usually starting and ending with one Tony Stark, a man that left Steve flustered, awkward and uncertain at the best times.

That unease certainly wasn't helped along by the man's conspicuous absence on moving day. Instead, it had been Pepper Potts, his CEO and girlfriend, that had been on hand to greet them.

Steve wasn't sure how he felt about that.

What could be more important than this?

So, as he often did when unsure of his surroundings, he'd squared his shoulders and fell into parade rest as Miss Potts approached him, one sculpted brow raised, and welcomed him to the tower.

"At ease, Soldier Boy," Miss Potts said, a small smile on her lips.

"Sorry, Miss Potts," Steve grinned ruefully, instantly relaxing his posture at the words. "I guess you can take the man out the army, but not the army out of the man."

And then the thing he'd been expecting had happened, and his life changed again.

Miss Potts halted, her eyes widening as she stared at him, at first with surprise, and then wonder took over, her hand frozen in the air between them as her mouth rounded.

"Oh," She breathed and then licked her lips nervously. "Oh my."

"Is there something wrong?" Steve asked, his brow pinching in confusion, uncertain as to what had caused that reaction.

And then she smiled brightly, crossing the remaining distance between them until she was standing right in front of him; so close that he could pick up the subtle scent of vanilla and some sweet flower that he couldn't place. Steve flushed, uncomfortable with her proximity, but didn't move away as he didn't want to be rude.

"It's you." Miss Potts placed a small, firm hand on his sleeve, as if ascertaining that he was really standing there, adding further to Steve's confusion.

"I'm not sure I follow?"

And he really didn't. He looked up at the others, already seated around the table, waiting for him, and Thor apparently, but they didn't seem to have any idea either. In fact, Natasha had her head tilted to the side as if she were trying to figure out an intricate puzzle. Bruce's brow was furrowed in thought, but seemed just as confused; and Clint just shrugged and then turned to continue his conversation with Bruce.

Steve turned back to Miss Potts and was about to ask for an explanation, but the pretty redhead beat him to the punch by sliding her hand down to cover his wrist. His right wrist to be one where his soulmark resided under a leather band. Steve swallowed thickly, his heart thundering in his ears as she caressed the band, and he could help the surge of hope that filled him at the intimate gesture.

"May I?" she asked, pointing to the band.

"Sure," Steve nodded, completely flustered by this turn of events, but awed as he watched the redhead deftly pull the band from his wrist. "But I have to warn you that's...that's not the right one. I mean, if I'm reading this correctly..."

"Oh," Miss Potts gasped as she flipped his hand over; and Steve fell into silence once more, again wondering at the reaction. She lifted her other hand and traced the spiky 'Captain' on his wrist as she hummed thoughtfully. "Well, that makes sense."

"What makes sense?" Steve asked just a tad testily, getting a little tired of the cryptic comments. He understood that this was an unexpected event, but a little information would be nice.

"Sorry," Miss Potts said, flashing him a rueful grin before tugging up her sleeve and flipping her right wrist over to show a mark that said, 'You just saved me millions of dollars; what's your name?' It was written in a very familiar hand. "That's Tony's writing."

And now it was Steve's turn to be stunned.

"Oh," he murmured, staring at his mark with interest as things clicked and started to fall into place as to why Tony always got under his skin. Steve took a deep breath and looked up. "And...you have another?"

"Yes, Captain…_Steve_." Miss Potts…_Pepper _said, and then reached up to undo the top three buttons of her shirt. Steve flushed and looked away, but not before he caught her smirk. She turned and pulled down the collar to reveal the words written at the base of her neck. "As you can see, I believe we have a match."

"Yes, we do." Steve stared at his own handwriting as if mesmerized, reaching up to trace the letters reverently, his breath hitching when she shivered beneath his touch. Embarrassed, he yanked his hand away, the heat in his cheeks increasing as he stepped back. Soulmate or not, it was rude to touch someone without permission.

"Sorry," he muttered, replacing the cuff around his wrist.

"It's fine, Steve," Pepper smiled and turned to place a reassuring hand on his arm. She studied him for a long moment. "You should come up for dinner tonight. Tony will be home from the R&amp;D meeting he couldn't get out of...well _I_ wouldn't let him miss, sometime this afternoon; we can talk about this then."

"Um...okay?" he agreed, nodding.

Steve still couldn't help feeling bewildered by the turn of events. After years of wondering, and then finally having given up altogether when he awoke to the year 2012, finding them both in the same day made his head reel. They had been here, right in front of him, all along.

"Good, we'll see you tonight then." Pepper leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek, and then turned and walked out the door, presumably to go greet Thor, whom JARVIS had just announced.

Steve stared after her for a long moment, trying to make sense of what happened when a voice from the other side of the room caught him off guard. Steve jerked head to the left, flushing once more when he remembered that he and Pepper weren't alone.

"Are you okay, Steve?" Bruce asked quietly, but there was a small smile on his face. Natasha just quirked a brow, but didn't react otherwise, almost as if she had seen this coming, which she probably had. And Clint...Clint stared at him, open mouthed.

"Yeah, I'm..." Steve croaked, and then paused to clear his throat, overwhelmed by the warm feeling growing in his chest. "I'm fine. Great even. I just...I didn't expect..."

He trailed off, not even certain what he wanted to say. Did that just happen? He met Bruce's eyes as if looking for confirmation and the doctor just smiled and toasted him with his coffee

"This explains so much." Clint snorted and went back to his conversation, only glaring half-heartedly when Natasha held out a hand with a smug grin. He rolled his eyes and grunted, which Steve took to mean he'd pay whatever he owed later. "So much."

Steve just ducked his head a grinned, anticipation thrumming through his body as he walked over to the table and sat down. He couldn't wait for tonight.


	14. Leaning Tower of Nothing Important

**AN:** The obligatory Tony is misbehaving during a meeting ficlet. Pepper/Steve/Tony pairing. This was supposed to be a short, funny scene with Tony doing a little Fury baiting, but then Tony happened and it completely changed the tone. And as usual, I suck at updating on this site, so it's a three for one deal today. If you want to see the ficlets as they come out, I post on Archive of Our Own as well under the pen name _AshitaNewssnoopy_.

* * *

Steve sat at the conference table, his back straight and eyes fixed attentively on Fury as he blathered on about some pointless mission that Steve just knew was going to fall through. He'd read the briefs on it and there wasn't enough viable information there for them to act; so, until SHIELD came back with more, this wasn't a job for the Avengers.

And Fury knew it.

Steve could tell that he really wasn't into this meeting, and was just going through the motions. It was either out of sheer boredom, as the Avengers haven't had a major event in the past month, or because the WSC was making him do it. Whatever the cause, this was just for show.

Which is why Steve didn't feel even the slightest bit bad that he wasn't contributing, and in fact, that his mind was miles away, planning out his revenge on Tony for his little surprise this morning. A good surprise yes - he glanced toward the man in question, his blood heating as he recalled just what he was wearing under his suit - but one that was ill-planned considering their early morning meeting.

Or actually, perfectly planned, given the way his lover was smirking at him from across the table. He eyed Tony, rubbing his forefinger over his lip thoughtfully as he let his his gaze trail slowly over his body and back up, and then sent Tony a diamond-sharp smile that let him know without a doubt just what he planned after this meeting.

Tony returned his heated gaze and shifted slightly in his seat, and then pulled out his phone, tapping on it lightly with a smug grin that meant he was up to no good. And sure enough, no more than a second later, Steve felt a buzz from his pocket.

Flicking a glance back at Fury, Steve pulled out his own phone and tapped in his password, pulled up the message and then just stared in stunned silence. Blood rushed to his groin and his pants grew noticeably tighter as he stared at picture of Tony sprawled across their bed, looking up into the camera from beneath his lashes, clothed in nothing but the tiny red, white and blue briefs he'd been sporting this morning.

Shifting in his seat, Steve barely repressed a groan and sent Tony a 'you will pay for this later' look. Tony just grinned and tapped out something out on his phone, and Steve's buzzed once more. Inhaling deeply, Steve tapped on the message and this time did make the smallest of sounds when confronted with another picture of Tony, this time with his hand down the front his briefs, cupping his now hard dick, and the words, _'like what you see,'_ sassily written across.

Steve bit his lip and then stuffed his phone in his pocket, determined to pay attention in order to end the meeting that much faster so he could pull those briefs off, with his teeth if necessary. He glanced back over at Tony for a brief moment, and then froze, staring as he slid the tips of two fingers past his lips and lightly sucked on them, his eyes hot with want.

Steve coughed, and shifted in his seat, which then caught Pepper's attention; and just why she was there, Steve wasn't certain, but Fury had asked for her and few people said no to Nicholas J. Fury. Although, come to think of it, Pepper might just one of those few to do so, which meant she was humoring this request for some reason.

Shooting Pepper a suspicious look, he was met with bright, questioning eyes, but there was something behind them, something he couldn't quite place. Giving her a weak smile, his suspicions were confirmed when Pepper, noting his likely pained expression, instantly glanced over at Tony's screen.

And then, after shooting Tony a look that was part exasperation, but mostly amusement, she reached over and grabbed his phone, stuffing it into her jacket pocket. But not before Tony was able to shoot off one more text.

Steve felt his phone buzz, and managed to ignore it for all of thirty seconds before his curiosity got the better of him. He pulled it out of his pocket and unlocked it and then just stared once more. For this time, it wasn't just Tony; no, it was of Tony _and_ Pepper, with Pepper dressed in a matching red, white and blue bra and panties set, straddling Tony, the both of them smirking over at the camera.

Steve swallowed harshly, his Adam's apple bobbing as he locked his phone and then shoved it into his pocket. Sending his lovers a heated look, promising that they'd be paying for this morning's mischief, he was met with twin smiles of victory.

Well, they'd see if those smiles lasted when he was done with them. He'd had a few ideas knocking about in his head that he'd been wanting to try out for a while now. _And_ he knew that Tony, for all that he hated being tied down typically, had a bit of a bondage kink when he trusted someone.

Maybe this would be the time to bring out those new toys he'd gotten the other day.

Steve was torn out of his musings when a loud conversation erupted around him. Looking up, confused as to what caused the commotion, he was met with a single smoldering eye staring them all down balefully.

"Do you fuckers ever read the briefings I send you?" Fury asked, obviously irritated by something one of the others had said. Something answered in the reports if he were to guess.

"There were briefings?" Tony asked impertinently just to fan the flames.

Pepper sighed and shot him an exasperated look. "Yes, Tony; I put them in the paperwork on your desk."

"You mean the Leaning Tower of Nothing Important?" Tony said, grinning when the muscle in Fury's jaw ticked at the idea of his reports being labeled as unimportant. "Bad call on that, Pep; you know I never actually read that shit."

Steve sighed. Even if he did agree in this instance, he wished Tony wouldn't bait the other man, because it just came back to bite Steve in the ass when he had to meet with Fury at a later date to go over 'the team's direction.'

"You read Selvig's papers..." Steve stated mildly, distracting Tony from his Fury-baiting and drawing those wicked eyes back to him.

"That was SCIENCE..." Tony emphasized, an infuriating smile on his lips. "All caps on that…Cap. Priorities."

"Of course," Steve snorted, shaking his head at the other man. "How silly of me to think otherwise."

The conversation devolved at that point, but Steve was no longer paying any attention to it, opting to use that time to search for something he'd saved to his phone. Pulling up a few pictures of the items he'd bought, plus his order form, he sent them off to Tony in quick succession and then closed his phone and put it away.

And then he just waited.

And sure enough, as soon as it buzzed, Pepper pulled the phone out of her pocket and opened it up and stared, her eyes wide and mouth pursed into a small 'O.' And then she flushed and handed it off to Tony.

Tony, for his part, looked at her questioningly, but then shrugged when she just shook her head and gestured to the phone with a little flustered smile.

Steve watched through hooded eyes as Tony, tapped in his password, the screen having gone dark during their exchange. And then he too stared. And then stared some more, his throat working nervously as he swallowed. He then quickly shut down and pocketed the phone, his eyes taking on a dazed glaze as they stared out at nothing in particular.

Then he turned to Steve, his eyes like whiskey fire as he stared at him and nodded ever so subtly. Steve smirked and licked his lips, enjoying the way Tony's gaze gravitated and fixed on his mouth. He sunk his teeth into the flesh, chewing on it, and fought back a chuckle as Tony's nose flared in response and he tugged at his tie. Tonight was going to be so much fun.

Turning away, Steve refocused on the meeting in time to see Fury lose his shit at Clint of all people, telling him that he didn't have time for this shit and then yell, "Get the fuck off my helicarrier. And don't come back until you've read this shit."

Which was fine by Steve, because honestly, this meeting had been a complete and utter waste of time from the very start. Although…

He glanced at a visibly flustered Pepper and an antsy Tony; perhaps it wasn't a total loss. He smirked and stood, moving swiftly towards the door, just in time to meet Tony as he too was sliding through it. He pressed up against his back, allowing him to feel the rock solid erection his pics had caused, and whispered, "See you tonight, sweetheart."

Tony shuddered and squirmed against him, his breath noticeably short as he ground against Steve's dick. Steve pressed his lips to the hollow behind Tony's ear, and licked, drawing a low sound from the other man just before he was pulled off by an insistent Pepper, who was shuffling him off to whatever meeting he couldn't miss.

Tony did shoot one last heated look over his shoulder even as he was being dragged off, and Steve allowed them their strategic retreat. This gave him plenty of time to put thing into motion for tonight. He returned Tony's look with a smile and turned the opposite direction. No time like the present to make sure everything was just right.


	15. Daddy Issues

**AN:** This is one of those scenes that got stuck in my head but had no home in any of the other things I'm working on behind the scenes. So I put it here. Plus, it gave me a chance to play around with Bruce's inner monologue. Also, personally, I have no issues with daddykink! (although, it isn't my cup of tea, really.); the scene just wrote itself that way. Steve/Tony pairing.

* * *

"Tony, Steve." Bruce smiled as he looked up from the book he was reading, a wary feeling fluttering in his chest as he eyed his teammates walking into the lounge.

Steve, typically immaculate, looked like he'd been put through the wringer; his hair was a tangled, snarled mess, his white T-shirt and jeans were torn in several places and he had an ice pack pressed to his temple, along with what looked to be the beginnings of a nasty black eye. Tony on the other hand looked perfect, (as he always does when going out in public; otherwise _he_ was the one running around in ripped jeans and a greasy, torn shirt), if not unbearably smug.

"Do I want to know?" he asked as he set his book aside.

Tony's grin just broadened if at all possible, while Steve scowled and threw himself onto the couch muttering under his breath about overzealous fan girls and people needing to keep their hands to themselves.

"I'll take that as a no," Bruce said, merely arching an unimpressed brow when Steve's scowl darkened even further, and the other man all but bared his teeth at him.

Bruce exchanged a curious look with Clint, who had been watching some mindless thing on TV, Toddlers with Tiaras or something to the like, but the other man just shrugged. Apparently he hadn't heard anything either. Bruce looked back at Tony, who had taken the opposite side of the couch and continued to grin at his sulking boyfriend.

"I tell you, Bruce, kids these days," Tony said, shaking his head sadly. "They are going to be the death of me."

"Natasha is off slinking around God knows where, likely seducing some poor, unsuspecting HYDRA agent before she bites off his head. This only after she's squeezed every drop of information that she can wring from his useless, wasted body...with her thighs."

"Thor is palling around with the Warriors Three, drinking at what will likely be known as the kegger to end all keggers."

"And _this_ one," Tony said far too gleefully, nudging Steve with his foot. Steve just shot him an irritated frown and moved his leg out of reach. "I just picked this one up from the police station for disturbing the peace after nearly inciting a riot when he was spotted chasing down a purse snatcher of all things…"

"They arrested Captain America?" Clint asked in a low, incredulous tone.

"They didn't realize it was me until _after_ Tony came to bail me out," Steve muttered, rearranging the ice pack on his head with a slight pout. This got a chuckle from Clint, which just made the pout deepen as Steve sunk further into the couch. "How is that even fair; _I_ was the one doing a good deed, and yet, _I'm_ the one they took in, instead of those rabid beasts that were trying to rip my clothing to shreds?"

Clint's sniggering turned into outright laughter at that point, which only deepened when Steve pinned him with a testy glare. Bruce had to admit that the entire thing sounded hilarious; shooting a tiny amused smile at Steve, he chuckled when he was met with a discomfited smile.

Tony snickered at his boyfriend's discomfort and barreled right on as if Steve and Clint hadn't spoken. "...How is this even our life? And how is it that _Clint_ is actually the good child for once?"

"Hey!" Clint scowled and flipped Tony the bird.

"And we were so certain this one would turn out well," Bruce lamented, casting a mournful glance at Steve, who finally relented and cracked a smile, because it really was just that ridiculous.

And on that note, he really had to wonder how on Earth the officers didn't recognize Steve; the man certainly did not fade into the woodwork like Bruce did. Although, Bruce wouldn't be surprised if they _did_ recognize Steve, but did it anyway; the NYPD was still a little irritated with the Avengers' interference last week.

"It's always the innocent looking ones, I tell you," Bruce continued, shaking his head slowly and sharing a faux commiserating smile with Tony.

"It's all on the other guy, I swear, Pops," Steve said, nodding earnestly.

And wow. That was…yeah, he wasn't going to touch that one with a ten-foot pole; especially given the glint in Steve's eye as he addressed that statement towards Tony.

"Wow," Tony breathed, his expression an interesting mix of perturbed and something Bruce would rather not name as he stared right back at Steve. "That just took our relationship to disturbing places; and I can't quite tell if I'm horrified or uncomfortably turned on right now."

"What?" Clint asked facetiously, smirking when Tony grimaced at his input. "Hearing Steve call you Daddy in the middle of sex doesn't get you hot?"

"Yeah, okay, horrified wins," Tony said, shuddering at the image that Clint painted, and then shot the archer a disgusted glare as he stood, holding his hand out to an equally green-looking Steve. "Please, let's never go there again."

Bruce couldn't help but concur. That really was way more information than he ever needed about his friends' potential sex life.

But Clint wasn't quite ready to let it go, getting in one last dig before Tony and Steve left the room. "You are wrecking all of my illusions of you, Stark."

Tony flipped him off, his words lost as the door to the elevator quickly shut behind he and Steve. Bruce shot a thankful look towards one of the cameras, knowing JARVIS was behind that little incident; the last thing he wanted was to find himself in between Clint and Tony when they got into one of their verbal sparring sessions.

Grimacing at the thought, Bruce picked up his book and chucked it at a still laughing Clint; and then he too stood and quickly left the room. He needed a cup of tea and a liberal application of brain bleach to forget _that_ mental image. He really didn't think Tony would appreciate having to call the contractors out for the third time that month.


	16. Wrong Equation

**Marvel Bland Headcanon:**_ It's agreed upon by the entire science community to never sit Fitzsimmons at the same table as Tony, Bruce, Jane and Betty at a conference again. Ever._ Steve/Tony/Pepper pairing.

**AN:** I had to do this one because Tony is forever being written as the instigator in science fuckery and Bruce and the others are the voices of reason. The role reversal amused me. The lyrics to Barbie Girl obviously do not belong to me.

* * *

Steve leaned back in his seat, a glass of water in his hand as he listened to the conversation flowing around him. Or, really, he made a pretense of listening, since he couldn't fathom even half of what they were saying. Luckily, he was surrounded by friends, so he wasn't worried that he'd inadvertently offend somebody by not paying any attention to the science and technobabble going on around him; they all knew Steve had little interest in the topic at hand.

Not to mention how much he hated the small talk and the wining and dining that came with these conferences, evidenced by how it was usually Pepper that was Tony's plus one at these events. She, at the very least, didn't have a seventy-year technology deficit to make up for.

Unfortunately, at the last minute, Pepper was called away due to a problem at one of the California facilities and couldn't make it back in time. Hence, Steve sitting here, bored out of his mind, making sure that Tony stayed out of trouble. Which would typically be a lot harder than it is tonight, but before they left, Steve promised all manner of naughty and debauched things if Tony behaved himself. And it seemed to be working thus far.

Steve glanced up when Tony made a disgruntled sound next to him. He shot him a questioning glance, but Tony's attention was riveted on something that Jane and Fitz, one of Coulson's baby agents, were sketching out on a napkin, and the random equations surrounding it.

Or well, he was sure they weren't random and had something to do with what they were talking about, but it was all Greek to him.

He looked away, and let his gaze bounce around the room, falling on the occasional person that he recognized and nodding at them. Sue Richards smiled wanly at the room in general and looked as if she were close to throttling her husband. Smiling to himself, Steve raised his glass once he caught her eye and nearly laughed at the grimace that she gave him in return.

At least he didn't have to deal with that brand of madness tonight.

Sighing, Steve reached his arms over his head and stretched, getting ready to tell Tony that he was going to slip away to the men's room before they brought out dinner, when he felt his lover tense beside him. He looked around hastily, wondering what had made Tony lock up like that when the man in question spoke.

"Uh guys," Tony said, trying to get FitzSimmons, Jane and Bruce's attention as he stared at their diagram with no small amount of horror. "Just thought I'd point out that this equation is wrong."

Tony pointed out the one in question, but no one was paying him any mind.

"And if we multiplied the…"

At that point, Fitz let out a long string of technical jargon that Steve knew he had no hope of pronouncing, let alone understanding. So, he didn't bother to parse it out. Frankly, he was more concerned with whatever had _Tony_ worried enough that he looked as if World War III was imminent.

"No, seriously guys," Tony tried again, desperately trying to get the others' attention. "That's not going to work out like you're thinking."

"And then…" Jane continued, ignoring him much to Tony's exasperation, her eyes sparkling with a manic glee that worried Steve. Because that look on any one of his scientist friends' faces meant bad things were afoot. To see it reflected back in FitzSimmons eyes as well, had him wishing he'd brought his shield with him no matter what Pepper had said about leaving it behind.

Tony slammed his hand down on the table, and then waited, lips pursed with annoyance, for the others to look up from the item they'd been tinkering with between them. And where they'd gotten tools and the other gadgets, Steve didn't know, but it was highly worrying.

"No really, all you're going to succeed in doing is blowing the damned place to kingdom come if you continue in that vein."

Tony once again pointed out the equation in question and started to explain why it was flawed, but it went way over Steve's head. But even without a full understanding of what he was talking about, Steve was utterly convinced whatever was going on, it was going to end in disaster. And even if Tony was wrong, which he doubted, caution was well warranted if explosions were involved in any way.

Tony turned to Bruce at this point and gestured at him, expecting him to back him up. But Bruce looked between Tony and Jane, and then back at Tony and then back at Jane, tugging on his sleeves nervously, and then did something Steve didn't expect.

"Tony, I think Jane is the expert when it comes to traversable wormholes, the Einstein-Rosen Bridge and the Bifrost." Bruce looked between the parties hesitantly, wincing when Tony glared at him and Jane beamed and went back to the gadget. "Maybe you should let them do their thing."

And really, that was rich considering that Bruce had been far too wrapped up in Betty the entire time to even bother looking at the diagram in question.

"Excuse you?" Tony retorted, clearly offended that his genius had been called into question. "Did I not tell you that I read up on this shit during the Loki incident? That wasn't a joke. And right now they're about to make The Battle of New York look like a skirmish if they keep that up."

"You had one night to study it," Jane said a bit waspishly, obviously annoyed that her work was being questioned. "I've spent years on this; I think I know what I'm doing."

And granted, Jane was a brilliant woman and had been studying this for a long time; definitely much longer than Tony. But the thing is, Steve knows Tony. He knows how much time and effort Tony puts into understanding the surrounding world, and really, if Steve had to choose, he'd believe Tony over Jane any day.

"You know what, fine," Tony spat, holding his hands up in supposed supplication, but Steve could tell that he was genuinely worried and furious at being ignored. "Do what you want; but when it blows up in your face, and trust me it will, don't come whining to me. I wash my hands of this."

And with that, Tony sat back in his chair stiffly and looked away.

Steve reached over and took one hand in his and began rubbing small circles on the back with his thumb. He drew Tony's attention away from the others, peppering him with question after question about one of the demonstrations they'd seen earlier in the day until the tension in his shoulders drained increment by increment. He didn't relax completely, and occasionally he'd flick his gaze to the diagram, but otherwise, he did as he said he would. Ignored it.

But apparently, this was enough to make Bruce worry.

Bruce glanced warily between Tony and the diagram a couple of times, his face gray with concern as he well knew, after working intimately with Tony in the lab, that this was an unusual reaction for his friend, and finally piped up. "You know, it wouldn't hurt to back off on the power a bit." He raised his hands in front of him when Jane snorted. "I'm just saying, that you can still test the results at a fraction of the power and see if it works before going full scale. And really, this isn't the place to be doing this in the first place."

"Please, don't do me any favors," Tony sniped, his hackles rising and the tension in his shoulders coming back as he sneered at the others. "After all, what does it matter if we blow up a few hundred civilians along with ourselves. It's all in the name of science, right?"

Steve sighed and pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, but agreed.

"And actually, make that an order," Steve said, speaking up for the first time. "I don't even know where you got any of this stuff, but if there is even a one percent chance that whatever you're building can explode, you will not risk it. As Tony said, there _are_ civilians present."

Jane glared at Tony, but Steve just arched a brow and stared her down.

"Fine," she huffed, reconfiguring something in her diagram.

"Wonderful." Tony sat back and rolled his eyes, his lips compressing as he turned back to Steve with a disgruntled grimace. Steve shifted closer, so that their sides were pressed together.

"Shouldn't we be putting a halt to this?" Steve asked in a low voice, pitching it so that only Tony could hear.

"Oh no," Tony smiled sharply, watching the proceedings with far too much glee for Steve's comfort. "Let them at it. Sometimes, the only way to learn is by doing and fucking it up."

"That explains so much about you," Steve snorted and then turned and leaned in, placing a soft kiss on that adorable pout because, really, who could resist.

"You love me," Tony grinned, linking their hands. "Besides, with the new configurations, they won't do much damage to anyone but themselves.

Steve gave an absentminded hum, and fell into easy conversation with Tony, discussing their plans for the following day since they were both planning to skive off the conference and visit some local winery that Tony was considering for purchase for Pepper's birthday. Or in actuality, Tony was considering it and Steve was going along to talk him out of it.

As usual. It was a thing that happened. Often.

He didn't know how much time they lost discussing the pros and cons of having a winery in their holdings when it happened.

Out of nowhere the room filled with a high pitch whine that had Steve wincing and on his feet in an instant, scanning the room for the likely culprit, his hand clutched at his side as if searching for a nonexistent shield. Spinning in a tight circle, he stared in horror when he discovered the cause - right in front of him, the device Jane and Fitz had been diligently working on, glowed an ethereal blue that reminded him of the Tesseract and pulsed wildly, the whining growing louder with each subsequent flash.

Jane and Fitz stared at it in wonder for all of thirty seconds before Jane's eyes widened and cursing under her breath, she threw herself to the ground, covering her head with her arms as she did so. Fitz and the others quickly followed behind her and Tony got out one very virulent, _shit_ before Steve launched himself at his lover and tackled him to the ground just as a resounding blast echoed throughout the room.

Steve hissed as shards of wood peppered his skin, leaving behind little cuts as he covered Tony, using his own body as a shield to protect his more vulnerable lover. And he stayed that way for several minutes until the the echoing ceased and the room was still and silent outside the incessant ringing in his ears.

Breathing in a shuddering breath, he looked down into Tony's face, relieved to see that his lover was more annoyed than anything.

"You going to let me up there, cowboy?" Tony snarked, but there was a small smile on his face, bringing an exasperated grin to Steve's.

"Yeah, yeah," Steve huffed, gingerly getting to his hands and knees. "Keep your pants on, Stark."

"My hero," Tony said facetiously, fluttering his lashes like a mad person even as he sat up.

Steve huffed again and then rolled over, brushing off bits of wood and metal shards as he turned to see if the others were all right, and then just stared at the mess that was once their table, barely making note of a sheepish Jane poking one eye out of the nest she'd made of her dress. Shaking his head in disbelief, the sound of the blast still ringing through his ears, Steve stood utterly transfixed until a muted bellow filled the room.

"STARK!"

"Every time," Tony huffed as he got to his feet, shooting a baleful glare at a visibly embarrassed Bruce and a stunned Jane and Fitz. Steve quickly made his way to his side, steadying him with a hand on his back, thankful when Tony leaned into it instead of batting it away. "Every damned time! Why is it when something goes wrong, everyone points their fingers at me?"

"How is that even a question?" Bruce joked, but it was a weak thing at best. He quickly stood and then offered a hand up to Betty.

"Oh, no you don't," Tony said, pointing a finger at the lot of them. "You do _not_ get to pin this one on me. I, for once, was the voice of sanity and reason. And how that is even possible, I don't know. But I was. You cannot blame this on me because I told you guys that the equation was wrong and you talked right over me without so much as a by your leave."

At this point, Fury had stalked his way over to them, and halted at Tony's side just in time to hear the end of his irate ramble. Fury paused, staring at the spectacular demise of their table with compressed lips, his dismay evident before glowering at the group of scientists that were once sitting around it. And all the while Tony continued his rant.

"You are so lucky that you were performing this thing on a small scale and not to the full force of what you were proposing, otherwise we would be missing far more than just a table."

And Steve shuddered at that thought, remembering what Tony had said about the force of the blast taking out the entire building if he hadn't talked them into some form of caution.

"So, no. Nope. Not taking the fall for this…" Tony said as he turned to a seething Nick Fury, and pointed to Jane and Fitz. "If you have issues, you take it up with those two over there."

The muscle next to Fury's good eye ticked as he stared hard at a completely unrepentant Tony; although, Steve would admit that Tony was fully justified in his reaction. This time. And since he could sense that Fury was getting ready to lay into Tony further, thinking Tony was trying to pull his usual '_Really, sir, I'm just an innocent bystander,_' bullshit, Steve decided to end it now.

_Before Tony really got irritated._

The last time that had happened, Tony had somehow managed to program Fury's communicator call tone to _Barbie Girl,_ so that every time Fury attempted to call a team member, instead of sounding an alert, it trilled, "I'm a Barbie girl, in the Barbie World…" And while amusing for everyone who was not Fury, Steve hadn't heard the end of it for months after.

"It's true, sir," Steve said, leveling an exasperated glare onto the others, cementing Tony's shit-eating grin. "Tony did make several attempts at telling the others that they had the equation wrong, and they ignored him"

Fury eyeballed him, obviously not believing a word he said, but Steve just shrugged and smiled his _'I-am-Captain-America-and-I -would-never-lie'_ smile. To which Fury huffed and rolled his eye before rounding on a cowering Jane and Fitz. And Steve decided that now was the perfect time to slip away while Fury was busy berating the others.

He reached out and tugged Tony to his side, "Let's go."

Tony nodded and then turned to follow him as Steve began to make his way out of the wreckage, nodding to a worried looking Sue as they departed. Tony turned his head to see where Steve was looking and hummed, his brow furrowed when he spotted Reed across the room.

"Huh...I'm surprised that Reed wasn't at our table," Tony said off-handedly, shaking his head as several people from nearby tables scrambled away from them. "Usually they like to have all of us superhero-scientist types in one easily watchable place."

"There was a reason for that," Steve huffed, staring down in dismay at his ruined suit. Pepper was going to kill them both. even if it wasn't their fault this time. "God knows that had Reed been sitting with us this year, everything would have exploded that much sooner. Remind me to add FitzSimmons to the banned list next year."

"You…" Tony trailed off, gaping as he fixed Steve with an accusatory stare. "I can't believe you. Did you and Sue seriously scheme to keep me and Reed separated at the conference?"

"Need I remind you what happened with the portal incident three years ago?" Steve replied, one brow arched. "And actually, that was Pepper. She didn't want to deal with yet another public relations mess and clean up bill like the last one."

"That was so not my fault," Tony protested indignantly, brushing soot from his pants.

Steve shot him a frankly disbelieving look and kept walking, opting to remain silent. It was such a blatant lie, that he was surprised that Tony was still standing and hadn't been struck down where he stood. Besides, if he gave him enough rope, Tony would hang himself.

"Okay, so maybe it was a _little_ bit my fault," Tony conceded, just as Steve knew he would, a petulant tilt to his lips; and God, Steve shouldn't find that so damned attractive, but he did. "But most of that was all on Reed."

"Tony," Steve sighed, barely quelling the urge to roll his eyes. "You two opened up a portal to a world where we were all zombies, werewolves and vampires. Trust me, when I say, that I never want to repeat that again. _Ever._"

Tony scrunched up his face unhappily, his mouth opening and closing a few times as he tried to come up with a justification for his and Reed's madness, but wilted when none came to mind.

"Okay, yeah; that was kind of creepy," Tony admitted with a grimace. But then he brightened, his lips curling into a leer as he waggled his eyebrows. "You have to admit, I made a hot vampire though; and you, an even hotter werewolf."

And then Steve did roll his eyes at that.

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a remark," he retorted, slowly maneuvering them through the still slightly hysterical crowd, all staring dumbly at the wreckage they left behind, and heading for the door before his wayward scientist could make things worse.

"Honestly, can we not get through even one of these things without nearly killing everyone in the process? Is this not possible? If it's not Doom trying to infiltrate the conference to get to Reed, then it's AIM trying to steal some mind control device that some moron came up with and bragged about to all and sundry. And if it's not that, then it's one of our own trying to prove that the multi-verse, or whatever their pet project is that year, exists. Just once, _just once_, I'd like to actually _eat_ my dinner, and not watch as it disintegrates before my eyes."

"No you wouldn't," Tony smirked, resting his hand on Steve's lower back as they broke through the crowd. "Trust me on that, Cap. There is a reason I go through the drive thru before one of these things. Because honestly, I'm not sure what they're serving exactly, but it isn't anything even remotely identifiable as edible food. You should be thankful that you are spared that horror."

Tony paused and tilted his head to the side thoughtfully.

"Actually, that makes a lot of sense," he continued, mostly to himself.

"What does?" Steve asked at the non sequitur.

"Why these little incidents always happen before dinner," Tony smirked, chuckling as they made their way to the car, which had pulled up just as he and Tony walked out the front doors.

It always amazed him that Happy seemed to know just when to pick them up even though Tony hadn't called or messaged him. Then again, that had been a rather loud explosion, and Happy likely added things up in a logical and linear method and figured out that Tony might be needing a quick escape route, and made sure to ready it.

Steve waved at Happy, nonverbally telling him to stay put as he opened and held the door for Tony himself, and then slid in behind him. "So why do we go to these things again?"

"SCIENCE!" Tony said, and Steve could practically hear the all caps in the word.

"Right," Steve replied dryly, shutting the door with a firm click and then waving again to let Happy know that they were ready to go whenever he was. "Maybe next time, I'll just stay at home and wait for Red Skull, the Masters of the Universe, AIM and the Mandarin to show up. It'd be safer."

"Please, you'd be bored without me," Tony snorted and then nodded to Happy, some secret communication passing between as he pulled away, leaving behind a seething Fury, who had just stalked out of the venue's doors with Maria in tow.

Steve sighed as he watched them out of the rear window and knew that he was going to hear about this next week despite Tony's lack of involvement. But for now...

"You owe me dinner," was all that he said, leaning back into the seat next to Tony.

"Not a problem, Soldier Boy," Tony smirked, his eyes taking on a wicked glint that told Steve that dinner was likely not in the cards just yet. "Pretty sure I can think of something to fill you up. After all, I think I behaved myself pretty well tonight and I was promised a reward. I think I deserve it for dealing with that madness. Happy, close the privacy window and take the long way around."

Steve wasn't so certain about that; because he was fully aware that if he hadn't extracted an agreement out of Tony earlier, he would have likely been right there with the others, egging them on. If for no other reason than to annoy Fury.

But faced with a mind-numbingly hot, pliant Tony straddling his hips just as the window closed between them and Happy, he couldn't muster up a reason to care.

"Well then, Stark; I guess I should see to that then."


End file.
